Forgive Us Our Trespasses
by TriggerHappyWorld
Summary: After two months spent in banishment on Staten Island, Bobby is looking for one thing: Forgiveness. What he finds could cost him everything, including his life.  B/A relationship, B/M partnership, and Stabler and Benson from SVU stop by. Part 3 in series.
1. Prologue: Lost?

**A/N: **This is the last story in my trilogy. The first two stories were 'In the confines of darkness' and 'down by the river'. You can read those if you want, they'll give you a pretty good understanding of what is going on with these guys now. All three are a crossover with LOSVU, however, in this story the SVU characters are in it solely for friendship purposes, not for a case. Also, since I ventured into AU terrority, I decided to take a lot of liberities with this one.

**Rating: **T (M for selected chapters)

**Warnings:** Ah, same as always: murder, violence, language, adult situations, and adults consenting to doing adult things, and adults consenting to doing stupid things...lol.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything associated with Law & Order: Criminal Intent. I'm not Dick Wolf. However, I do own what I've created.

**Summary: **"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." - 'The Lord's Prayer'

Enjoy!

* * *

It was getting too hard to run as his shoes kept slipping on the snow. Every few steps his legs would snag a fallen branch and he would tumble into a tree or to the frozen ground. He face felt numb as his chest burned from the freezing air that he desperately inhaled as he raced against time to find the road, to find a house, to find anything or anyone that could help him. The visibility was getting denser making it hard for him to see the path that would guild him out of the dark woods that surrounded him.

He had to keep moving, keep going, or else he wasn't going to make it out of there alive. Pounding one foot in front of the other, he forced his heavy tingling legs to not slow down even though that was what his body wanted him to do. It wanted him to give up. He was feeling physically sick and drained because the gnawing fury of pain that was in his abdomen was excruciating.

_Keep moving. Keep moving. You will not die. Not here, not now. Not like this. _He listened to the words in his head as he stumbled to a stop at the foot of a incline. The hill was steep and from what he could barely see there was no way around it. He had to go up. Taking the death grip off his stomach, he felt the warm stickiness on his hand before he grabbed onto a tree and pulled himself up as he started to climb.

His legs kept sliding out from under him and he would slip to the cold snow as he tried to reach the top of the hill. It took some time as he pulled his tired, sluggish body up the hill using one tree after the other for support. The top of the incline was finally in sight and a small smile grew on his face as he spotted a guardrail. That meant there was a road up ahead. A road meant cars and with cars came help. And right then he needed all the help he could get because he didn't have anything. Not even a cell phone. Everything he had was stripped from him right before a gun was shoved against his abdomen just before the trigger was squeezed.

He had to keep moving; now his shoes slipped on ice covered pavement as he journeyed down the long dark road in search of help. There was no time to rest, or to breathe as he looked down at the blood that had spread over the entire front of his blue dress shirt. Blood was slowly seeping out of the bullet hole; his right hand was pressed firmly against it trying to stop the flow. Gritting his teeth at the pain he closed his eyes as he felt the ice cold wind shake his whole body, even his bones.

He didn't want to die out there. He couldn't hear a thing, see a thing, or smell a thing. There wasn't anything, only trees, snow, and the animals. The animals were around even though he couldn't see them; they were there and they wanted to devour him, tear him apart.

He pushed a little harder into the bullet wound as his breathing slowed. How did it get this fucked up? He was still in shock at what happened. That he had once again put everything else above and beyond his own safety. In the moment it took him to pull his gun to actually shoot somebody, he knew he had made his ultimate and maybe his final, fatal, move. Robert Goren was not the kind of cop to pull his gun and do something stupid. Yet, tonight, he had to do exactly that.

And it wasn't the first time.

Things had gone from bad to worse in just short month. Things that he still couldn't wrap his head around. There was a time when he felt safe, when he felt centered, and things were just fine. Then one day, it turned wrong. Everything changed. It was hard for him to adapt to change. So, instead of adapting, he got angry. His anger had damaged his relationship with his partner, his lover, his best friend, all of which were the same person: Alex. He had pushed her and made her leave him. Made her unwilling to forgive him.

And he didn't know how to deal with that. He didn't know how to deal with Alex, with the abduction, both his and hers, or with his work. He had found himself lost.

_Lost. _

It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling for him. He had felt that many times in his life, most of which in his much younger years. However, not once did he ever feel as uncertain and afraid as he had been a month ago. It was then that he left everything and everyone behind by accepting the offer he had been given.

Suddenly, he was feeling very tired of moving as his legs buckled, sending him stumbling into the guardrail. He doubled over as the pain ignited a fire within his gut. As his knees hit the black colored snow at the edge of the road, he knew that it had all come down to this.

A month ago he wondered if he had made the right decision. Now, staring down the rural deserted road in the middle of Staten Island, and with no lights or sounds of life anywhere around him, he knew the answer to that. Even if it ended like this, with him dying right there, it was the right decision.

After this, hopefully, he would finally get redemption.

TBC…


	2. Forget it, Bobby, it's Staten Island

_One Month Prior_

The body was slumped over the steering wheel as the stiff arms hung down against the front of the seat. It had taken a few minutes to air out the garage before he could stand in it without getting a bad headache and burning eyes from all the carbon monoxide that had completely filled it the night before. December had barely gotten under way and the suicides were already starting.

Bobby stared at the man who had decided the previous night that his life wasn't worth living anymore and shook his head. The dead man hadn't even tried to get out of the car. The doors were locked when they arrived. He heard crying off to his right and looked through the door that led into the kitchen. The ex-girlfriend had been the one to find him after trying to call several times only to get the voicemail. They had broken up nearly three weeks ago and she had decided to give him another chance.

He looked back to the man and rubbed at his aching head. If the guy had just waited one more day maybe he would have been okay. He would have still been alive. Bobby finished writing in his binder even though it was an open-shut suicide, there were no indications otherwise, and left the crime scene techs to their work as he went to the kitchen where his partner, Mike Logan, was comforting the hysterical woman.

When Logan looked at him, Bobby nodded giving him is silent word that they were finished. He watched as Logan handed the grieving woman his card and thanked her before joining him by the door.

"Number two and counting," Logan whispered as he slipped by him out the door. "I just hope it doesn't reach the double digits before New Year's."

Bobby didn't say anything as he followed slowly behind. There were gray clouds gathering above them as a storm front moved over the island. The day was starting to reflect his mood, cold and gray. Getting into the passenger seat, he sighed heavily while rubbing at his head as his eyes closed without much fight to stop them.

Logan started the engine on the department issue Crown Victorian that tried to die out and cranked the heat up. The temperature had dropped drastically in the past couple of hours. "Fumes get to you?" he asked as he pulled away from the curb.

Bobby glanced over at him and nodded silently.

It took a couple of seconds before Logan groaned. "What?"

He felt his shoulders shrug in way of answering but didn't look up from staring at his binder that was on his lap.

"You've been so quiet today. It usually takes me pointing my gun at you to get you to shut-up." When he still didn't answer, Logan groaned again while mockingly asked, "You're not pregnant are you?"

Bobby couldn't help but laugh and he realized how good it felt; it helped a little to ease the tension that was knotted in his shoulders and back.

"Hey, since you're not talking and all; wanna not talk over a drink after work?"

Bobby nodded a little as he turned his troubled eyes toward the window. His thoughts began to swirl around his head, making it hard to concentrate. As the dark clouds were gathering in the sky, they were also gathering in his heart. For the past seven weeks he had been working the Homicide Division at the 128th Precinct on Staten Island after being demoted and transferred from Major Case. Seven weeks wasn't a long time, but he could already feel the changing currents within his self.

It was no secret that working homicide changed a person. With Major Case, he had been able to work all kinds of cases from robbery to art thief to kidnapping and murder. It offered more than just death and even though it had been mentally and emotionally trying, it was nothing overtly overbearing. Homicide was a different beast altogether. He had always thought that it took a special kind of detective to work day-in and day-out in homicide. Every call was about a dead person, whether it was from natural causes, suicide, murder, or accidental death, they were the ones called.

And, there was no such thing as time off. It didn't matter if it was his day off or not the clock never stopped ticking, as it should when it was a murder investigation. He didn't stop working until there was a break in the case or they found the guilty person responsible. It was the same when he worked Major Case; he obsessed over the murder cases and barely slept until he closed them.

He tried to remember the last time he was able to eat a whole meal before his cell signaled a break in the case or a new one. Or the last time he actually ate at home instead of on a stakeout, at the restaurant around the corner from the station, or at his desk in the department. He couldn't. What he could remember was the last time he had dinner with Alex. That night was burn into his memory because it was the last time they were together before it all went to hell.

Seeing that man lying dead in his car with his ex-girlfriend crying in hysterics had shaken him. A day was all that guy had needed to have purpose again but he couldn't wait any longer. Bobby felt the same about his relationship with Alex. Not that he thought about killing himself, but that all he had to do was wait one more day. That one more day had turned into seven weeks and he was still waiting.

He felt the vibration before he heard the ringing of his phone. "Goren," Bobby spoke into it as he answered.

"Where are you and Logan?" It was Sergeant Danielle 'Danny' Macy; she was the watch sergeant on shift at the department.

"We just left the Ulrich residence. Why?"

"I got a call but I want to keep it off the radio."

The urgency in her voice broke through the turbulence of his mind causing him to sit up in the seat. Usually when a call was kept from being broadcast over the radio it meant that the case was big and most likely going to be a media frenzy. "Uh, yeah, Macy, what'd ya got?" Bobby switched the phone to his right hand as he flipped open his binder.

"It's Danny? What's going on?" Logan asked as he slowed for a red light.

"Ten minutes ago," Macy was telling him, "a call came in from 8765 Riverdale Avenue. A woman, Spanish speaking, was crying so hard most of what she said was missed, but a patrol was dispatched and when they arrived, they found both Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Connelly dead."

Bobby could envision the vultures gathering already. Greg Connelly was a well-known and liked entrepreneur who owned two casino boats. "You made the right move by keeping this off the air, so let's try and keep it quiet for as long as possible. I'll call you back on the cell when we know more."

"Okay, Goren, good luck."

Bobby flipped the cell shut as Logan switched on the siren. "8765 Riverdale Avenue."

"And who are the tenants of that mansion?"

"Gregory Connelly and his wife."

"Oh." Logan was silent for a beat before saying, "We may have a few hours at best before this gets out and your old pals at Major Case take over."

As they continued the drive to the Connelly's residence, a heavy snow began to fall. Bobby thought about what Logan had said as he watched the street quickly become a white blanket of snow. Opening his cell back up, he dialed a number and waited.

"Staten Island County Coroner's Office."

"It's Detective Goren, is Kerr in?"

"Yeah, Goren, hang on while I get him."

It didn't take long before the Chief Medical Examiner, Eddie Kerr, answered, "Detective, what can I do for you?"

"It depends if you're busy."

"Let's see…I've got your suicide coming in, a couple of frozen homeless men, a dead whor—ow! I mean, prostitute, and an unknown death, but other than that, it's a pretty quiet day."

Bobby smiled as he envisioned Kerr being smacked by his assistant, Brenda Hanson, as he was about to call the dead prostitute a whore. The man had no respect for the dead when it came to things like that. He was the kind of guy to call things like he saw them and didn't care who he offended. "Is there anyone who can cover for you for a few hours? Hanson maybe?"

"I suppose. What's this about?"

Bobby quickly told him about the Connelly murders and waited for his answer.

"Give me twenty minutes and I'll be on my way."

"Hey, ya, thanks, and keep this off the radio. We're trying to not cause any noise on this until there's no avoiding it."

After he made that call, Bobby then called the Crime Scene Unit and spoke with the CSI in charge, Rachael Porter, and gave her the same information he had given Kerr. So far, he was hoping he could give them more than a few hours with the case before Major Case stepped in and took it. He never understood the distain to having a case taken away until he transferred to Homicide, and now it was at his old squad.

Not more than ten minutes later, they turned down Riverdale. The third gated entrance on the left was the Connelly's. A uniform patrol officer was waiting at the gate and she waved them through. The mansion sat near the back of the property. It was white with blue trimming and all the white icicle Christmas lights that decorated the house were on. He could see the decorated fern tree through the first window to the left of the front door. There was a fountain in the middle of the big yard with an ice angel in the middle; the base of the fountain was quickly filling up with snow.

A patrol car was parked at the top of the driveway and Logan parked behind it. As he got out, Bobby noticed that in the back of the patrol sat an elderly woman with graying black hair wearing a big fur coat over a maid's uniform. She must have been the caller.

Another patrol officer was at the door. The nameplate on his jacket read Gabriele. "The bodies are this way," he told them as he started moving into the house.

"Whoa," Bobby said as he held up his hand to stop the eager officer. "Just point. I don't want anymore of your footprints in the house. When CSU arrives, make sure you give them yours and your partners' boots to print."

Gabriele reddened as he pointed down the hallway past the foyer. "Down the hall, to the right. It leads to the study. Mr. Connelly's in there. Mrs. Connelly is upstairs in the bedroom. It's the fourth door on the left."

Bobby started to walk along the far edge of the floor next to the wall. He stopped and looked back at the officer and dismissed him by saying, "Uh, you can go now."

Gabriele quickly nodded as he turned and headed to the patrol car.

Logan was trying not to laugh as they headed into the house. "Your manners are impeccable. I bet the Chief of D's loves you."

"He loves me so much he put me here with you."

"Hum, tough love."

Bobby smirked a little as he became focused on the job as he entered the study. There was a smell in the air that was so recognizable to him that it was almost frightening. It was the smell of death, and it was the most horrible smell in the world.

"I'll take upstairs," Logan called out.

He heard the echo of Logan's steps through the house and up the stairs before they faded into silence. It was so quiet he could've heard the snow hit the ground outside. Mr. Connelly was lying on the floor next to the desk on his back with his face facing the ceiling. A look of surprise permanently etched into his features but there was no emotion in his eyes. They were empty. There was also a phone next to his left hand.

Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, Bobby picked up the phone and saw on the display that only one number had been dialed, the number nine. It was likely that Mr. Connelly was trying to call the police when he was killed. There was a single gunshot to the center of his forehead, a kill shot. That was when he knew that it wasn't just a murder, but an execution.

Logan met him at the bottom of the spiral staircase. "One shot, execution style to the center of her head."

"Mr. Connelly was killed the same way. Professional hit."

"Seems that way," Logan agreed as they headed for the door. "Nothing's disturbed; there're no signs that it had been a robbery gone wrong. The only purpose the guy had was to kill. Oh, and they have a son. From the looks of his bedroom that could be classified as a health hazard, I'll say it's a teenager."

"We need to get a recent picture of him and get a BOLO out on him as soon as we can."

Officer Gabriele was sitting in the patrol car, doing paperwork, until he spotted them coming out of the house. He quickly got out and came up to them. "So?"

"Have you called anyone else about this?" Logan asked.

"It's not procedure for me to call anyone except the watch sergeant."

Bobby eyed the young officer and asked again, "Did you?"

Gabriele shook his head wildly. "No, sir."

"All right," Logan stepped up to the officer and leaned beside him against the car. "Tell us everything you saw and heard since arriving. Go."

Gabriele's account started with being dispatched to the scene. He arrived and found that there was no forced entry and the front door was unlocked because the maid, Amelia Ramirez, who found the bodies had unlocked it when she arrived at the house at four. He then checked the house, room-by-room, and once it was clear, reported back to the watch sergeant. The interview took a grand total of a minute and a half.

Bobby opened the back door to the patrol. "Señorita Ramirez?"

Amelia Ramirez held a tight frown on her tear stricken face as her voice shook when she answered, "Sí."

"Habla usted inglés?"

"No," she said as she shook her head.

Logan leaned down and asked, "You speak Spanish?"

Bobby nodded as he said, "Among many others." He rounded the car and got in beside her. "Uh, c-could, uh…could you shut the door, Logan. It's freezing."

Logan did as he was asked and then got into the front passenger seat. He turned around and faced them as Bobby started the questioning.

He asked first about the son and where he was. Amelia said that she didn't know where their son was. Kevin Connelly, who was seventeen, usually stayed gone during the weekends, and since it was Friday, he wouldn't be home until Sunday. After that, Bobby asked her to tell him as calmly as possible what happened that day. He listened and never interrupted as he wrote down her account of what happened. When she began crying and talking faster, and through the hiccups of her shaky voice, all Bobby caught was that she found Mr. Connelly dead and called the police. He thanked her and after getting her phone number and address, told her it was okay for her to leave. He watched as Amelia's car turned out of the driveway onto the street just as the coroner's van pulled up into it.

A full-scale search of the house took hours. Even though the murders happened in two rooms, there could be evidence anywhere. It was clear to him on a once over of the downstairs that the Connelly's had been entertaining guests, or a guest, that afternoon before they were killed. Logan had found a picture of the son soon after Amelia left and a BOLO, which stood for 'be-on-the-lookout' flyer, given to all the patrols on the island.

Bobby was seated at the desk in the upstairs office, searching through the drawers and files, when he heard a beautiful familiar voice that haunted his dreams every night. Looking up, he watched as Alex entered the room.

"Hey," she said a little tentatively, as if she was afraid to be in the same room with him.

Or that could have been his own fear blinding him. Bobby could feel the tension in his body growing already. "Deakins sent you?"

"I guess he was feeling sorry for me. It's my first case after three weeks of desk duty."

Bobby nodded as he stared at her. Once he realized that he was staring, he looked away. "Where's your partner?"

"I don't have one yet," Alex said with an exaggerated sigh. "I have to work with whoever the responding detectives are. Lucky me, it's you and Logan."

Bobby didn't know how to take that last sarcastic comment; he couldn't tell if she was glad or if she was dreading working with him again.

Logan's voice cut through the dread as he heard him say, "Ought oh, I hear my name coming from a woman. This can't be good." He appeared in the doorway and spotted Alex. "You know me but I don't know you."

Alex glanced over at him and rolled her eyes. Bobby withheld a smirk and shook his head. Alex and Mike in the same room together, he was doomed.

"I'm Detective Eames."

"Oh, you mean the Detective Eames that Goren goes on-and-on about."

Bobby's jaw twitched as Logan said that and ducked his head away from Alex's eyes. He didn't need to see her expression to know what her reaction would be.

"And you're the Detective Logan who clocked that politician."

"I deny everything."

"To bad that line didn't work for you ten years ago."

Bobby wanted to throw his fist up in the air and hail victory to Alex but he was trying too hard to appear invisible to make such a bold move.

"Ouch," Logan finally registered defeat as he said, "You're tough. I think I might not mind it too much when I have to hand this case over to you."

Bobby glanced up at that and softly smiled as she looked over at him and did the same.

"Actually," she told Logan, "you're not gonna have to. We're working it together."

Logan stood stocked still for a moment as he looked over at him. Bobby gave him a reassuring nod before looking at the files in his lap. The papers were old tax forms for the past five years. He did a quick scan of the documents but what he was seeing wasn't making a whole lot of sense to him.

"What is it?" Alex asked from directly in front of him.

Bobby closed his eyes as he caught her scent. She was so close it was agonizing. "Uh, s-something's, um…" he cleared his throat as he glanced up at her and held up the papers in his hands. "Something's off with the tax forms, but…I'm not sure what, exactly. I'm gonna have to have someone take a look at them, see if they're legit." He went through the drawer and gathered all the papers and files into a pile as he called out into the hallway, "Porter, you out there?"

"I'm busy, Goren. What'd you need?"

"A box."

A couple of seconds later, a CSI tech that he barely recognized brought him a cardboard evidence box. Bobby dumped all the files into it and filled out the information on the lid and side. When he looked around the office, he noticed that Alex was no longer in the room, and Logan was gone as well.

He found Logan in the kitchen talking on his cell phone. Logan covered the phone with his hand as he told him, "Kerr's done with the bodies. No new evidence and he sent out blood work to toxicology."

Bobby nodded as he grabbed a coffee out of the to-go carrier that was on the island in the middle of the kitchen. There was one last cup in it and he pointed to it.

"Eames," Logan explained before he went back to talking on the phone.

Bobby took it out as well and prepared both cups. Taking them with him, he went in search of Alex. He found her in the living room talking to one of the techs about the wineglasses that were on the tables.

Alex turned as he entered the room. With seeing the two coffees in his hands, she smiled at him as she took the one offered to her. "Thanks, I kept forgetting it was in there."

He smiled back as he leaned down and whispered to her, "Welcome back." Bobby caught the blush before she covered it with taking a drink of the coffee. "What'd you find?"

"There's lipstick on two glasses."

Bobby took a sip of the warm coffee before saying, "I know. That, uh, confused me. Why would Mrs. Connelly drink from two different wineglasses?"

Alex smirked at him. "That's because she wouldn't, and in this case, didn't."

Bobby looked at her and then at the wineglasses. Going over to them, he bent over and studied the shade on both. "They look the same to me."

"One's Rosemary Red. A cheap brand. The other is called Silk, and it's much more expensive. Same color, different quality and texture."

Bobby smiled as he rubbed at his head. Walking over to her, he said, "I would've missed it, until the forensic report came back proving me wrong."

"That's why you need a woman."

Bobby stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I've got one; she just doesn't return my phone calls."

"Bobby, when I feel ready to talk, I'll call you."

Bobby shyly looked away as he nodded. She would call him; that was what she told him seven weeks ago and she still hadn't done it. It was going to be on her terms, not his. That was probably the message she was trying to send him and he was receiving it loud and clear. Having this be on her terms was killing him. "Um…I know, it's…" He looked around the room then into her eyes as he told her, "If you don't want to talk, about, uh…us, that's fine. I don't care. I mean, I do care, but uh…" he closed his eyes and tried to get his mind back on track. "I don't care what you call me for, okay. It can be for anything…you can call me. It doesn't matter if it's two in the morning, I'll listen."

Alex took a few sips of the coffee as she looked at him in thought. Finally, she nodded, "I know."

Logan entered the room and they both turned to look at him. "Patrol found the son," he told them as he pulled on his leather overcoat.

* * *

Bobby watched through the windshield of the car as Kevin Connelly ducked behind a brand new 2005 Mercedes Benz and picked up a soda can that had been sitting between the rear right tire. He dipped what looked to be a cigarette into the can, waited a few seconds, then pulled it out. Bobby knew what the kid was doing having seen it so many times while working narcotics. The kid was coating the marijuana cigarette with liquid acid. Going back over to the door, Kevin handed it to a kid that looked to be around the same age. The kid paid and then slipped back inside the warehouse where a rave was taking place.

He looked over at Logan who was watching and shaking his head. "Their kid's a dealer."

"It's a shame," Logan said. "The Connelly's have all this money, live in a big mansion, send their kid to private school, and what does he do? He goes around making acid-sticks for his high school pals." He pocketed the car keys as he looked over at him, asking, "Ready?"

Bobby hesitated for a moment as he looked back to Kevin. From a distance, he could tell that the teen was tall, about six feet, with dark hair and eyes like his father. The black pants the kid was wearing was sagging down close to his knees and despite the weather, he was only wearing a hooded sweatshirt. "Does he look like a runner to you?"

"Yep," Logan verified his suspicion. "And I bet he could out run us if his pants weren't hugging his knees."

"Thought so," Bobby mumbled as he unconsciously rubbed at his right knee. The cold weather was making it ache.

The warehouse was a couple of blocks from the port that the casino boats that Kevin's father owned docked. At that moment, those boats were out on the ocean with a hundred or more people oblivious to the fact that the owner and his wife were dead.

Bobby picked up the two-way radio, and spoke into it. "One-two-eight Charlie to Unit 226, Detective Eames, come in, over."

Alex was parked on the adjacent street which was to the left of where they were sitting. From his position, he couldn't see the SUV because it was blocked by the building they were parked next to. After a moment, the radio static cracked and she answered, "This is Unit 226, over."

"Uh, yeah," Bobby said as he looked back to watching Kevin, who was making another acid-stick for another teenage boy. "We think we've got a runner. Give us twenty seconds then come up the street, stay to the left. We'll approach and surround. Over."

"Roger that, and out." Then the radio went silent.

Bobby lowered the radio and looked at Logan who was trying not to smile. "What?"

"Are you sure you two aren't married? That had to be the most professionally tense conversation I've ever heard. Ever. She wouldn't even call you Detective Goren."

Bobby didn't say anything as he got out of the car because he knew Logan was right. She had kept from referring directly to him and it pissed his off. Shaking it off, he looked around as he clipped the radio to the back left side of his belt. As he did so, his arm brushed over the butt of his gun and he hoped he wouldn't have to pull it. He also hoped that Kevin was smart and didn't try to run.

Logan crossed to the left side of the street while he stayed to the right. With the way they were approaching Kevin, Logan would be in the middle, he would be to right and Alex would come up on the left. Kevin would have nowhere to run if he did try to take off. At the moment, Kevin was turned with his back to him.

Bobby couldn't hear what Kevin was saying to two other teenage kids, a boy and girl, due to the loud bass booming from inside the warehouse and bouncing off the walls; he knew they were all taking to each other because he could see their white breaths in the cold air. He started to head more right, making sure to come up from Kevin's side, when the teenage boy spotted his movements and he was made.

The teens took off inside the warehouse as Kevin looked back over his shoulder and right at Logan. Bobby's hand was on his gun but he didn't pull it because Logan was running up on Kevin fast with his gun pointed right at him.

"Police," Logan yelled but the power of it died in the loud bass.

Bobby watched as Alex advanced on Kevin and because of Logan, she wasn't seen.

Kevin took off on a dead run but ran right toward Alex. She caught him by the shoulders and slammed her knee between his legs and let go. Kevin dropped so hard his face hitting the snow caused a big white cloud to shoot up in the air then cover him. He was down for the count.

Logan holstered his gun and looked at Alex. "Damn; where've you been all my life?"

Bobby smiled at the glare she shot Logan.

Logan was smiling too as he picked Kevin off the ground and tossed him toward the wall. "Relax, kid, and breathe deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Come on, don't pass out on us. We need to talk to you."

Kevin was bent over, his face red and in pain, and holding the area between his legs. "Think 'm gonna get sick."

Bobby barely contained his laughter as he walked up beside Logan and helped him to hold the boy against the wall. Checking him over, he said, "You should be glad she didn't pull her gun. Why'd you run?"

"You's cops, 5-0, pigs."

"Uh-huh, and this cop got you for evading," Bobby told him as he turned Kevin around to face the wall. "Spread 'em."

"Get off me! I ain't do nothin'," Kevin angrily protested as he struggled against them, using his hands to push himself off the wall.

"All the money for private school and you don't have better grammar than that?" Logan teased the kid as he pushed Kevin back against the wall.

"B.D.K., are you alright?" a teenage girl asked as she was walking over to see what was going on.

Alex stopped her with a glare and her shield as she said, "He's about to go to jail; how about you?"

The girl immediately muttered something and headed back inside the warehouse.

Logan eyed Kevin as he asked, "B.D.K?"

Kevin tried to turn around as he said while grinning, "I'm workin' on my rapper name. It stands for--"

"Shut-up, Shrimp Daddy," Logan said, cutting him off. "And turn around before I make you."

"You know what, I don't care," Kevin said in anger at being cut off. "Arrest me! Give me some street cred. I'm gonna be big, you pig, like Eminem."

Kevin tried to turn around again but it was Bobby who got frustrated and grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved him harder into the wall. "Stay put, Skittles. If you try that again, I'll add resisting." He then started to search Kevin's pockets.

Logan was laughing now as he told Kevin, "Skittles. Now that's the perfect name for you. See, once we put you up in county, you'll be tasting the rainbow, you know what I'm saying?"

"Screw you," Kevin shot back but Bobby could tell that some of the fight was out of the kids voice. Maybe he was starting to take this seriously.

Bobby pulled out a wad of money held together by a rubber band, a wallet, cell phone, and then two baggies of cocaine from the back pocket. "We've got snow, and I don't mean the kind that melts." He held the baggies out for Kevin to see. "Where'd you get this?"

Kevin visibly paled as he closed his eyes.

Taking out his handcuffs, Bobby cuffed him while he told him his Miranda Rights. Grabbing Kevin's shoulder, he turned him around and asked again, "Where'd you get it?"

Kevin shook his head. "I ain't no rat."

"Wrong answer," Logan said as he pushed the kid toward the wall.

Bobby watched as Kevin glared at Logan then turned his head down and looked away. Leaning over, he caught Kevin's eyes and asked, "Wanna try another one?"

Kevin still didn't answer and kept his head down.

He sighed and looked to Logan. "Let's take him home."

"Let's," Logan gripped Kevin by the shoulder and pulled him closer to him and started for the street.

Kevin flinched and jerked away as fear filled his eyes. "He called you, didn't he?"

Bobby stared at the kid as he asked, "Who's he?"

"My pops, man. He called you, right? How else would you know where to find me?"

Bobby was momentarily stunned as he looked down at Alex who shook her head at him. Kevin had no idea. "Why…why'd you think your dad would call us?"

Kevin eyed him and then looked at Logan, and then Alex as if he was trying to put something together in his head. "I want a lawyer and I want to call my dad. Now."

Bobby stepped back and looked at Logan. He felt the door slamming on him the moment Kevin asked for a lawyer and to speak to his father; they weren't going to get anywhere with the kid now.

Logan pulled out his shield and showed it to Kevin. "We're Homicide detectives," he told him.

Bobby heard Logan tell Kevin that both his parents were dead. Kevin turned a shade of white and green as he stumbled against the wall and then hit his knees. The booming music that bounced around them as he looked down at Alex drowned out the sound of Kevin's vomiting.

A few minutes later, Alex asked Kevin, who was sitting on the ground shaking, "Is there anyone we need to call?"

Kevin's pale face was still slack; he was in shock as he slowly nodded his head. "My grandparents. They live in Long Island."

Alex nodded as she turned to him. "I'll give them a call when I get back to the department."

Bobby agreed as he sat down next to Kevin on the sidewalk. "Why did you think, that, um…your father sent us out here to get you?"

Kevin was silent for a long moment as he stared at the ground. "I thought he discovered his stash gone, and I was the only one that could've taken it. I thought…I don't know, maybe he was trying to scare me or something."

"So," Bobby said as he looked at Kevin who was staring at a spot straight in front of him. "The drugs I found on you, it's your fathers'?"

"Yeah."

"Where was it? In a safe?"

Kevin shook his head and closed his eyes. "Nothing like that. It was in his cigar box, on top of a bookshelf in his upstairs office."

Bobby looked away, toward the car where Logan was calling into the department to let them know what they had on Kevin. "Your dad, he uh, he was a powerful guy. I bet he knew cops, huh? Cops who would help him out…or, uh, cops who he could call in the middle of the night to come out here and scare you?"

Kevin looked over at him and then nodded a little. "He knows some. I never saw them though, or heard their names. Just that, um, this one time when I got into trouble, my dad called them and they made it go away."

Bobby studied him and once he was satisfied with what he saw, he asked, "Were you home at all today after school?" After Kevin shook his head, he asked, "Did you know if anyone was going to come over today?"

Kevin shook his head again. "No, but now I wish I did." Tears started to run down his face and he tried to use his shoulders to wipe them away. "What's gonna happen to me?"

Bobby didn't know what to tell the kid. It depended on what his lawyer could do for him, but he was sure given the circumstances and who Kevin's father was, Kevin was probably looking at a good plea agreement in his future. Then it struck him that maybe Kevin wasn't talking about the charges that would be brought against him, but what was going to happen to him now that his family was gone.

He never gave Kevin an answer. Alex took him with her as she headed back to the department to book Kevin into the system and for him to wait on the arrival of his grandparents and lawyer.

Bobby walked up to the Crown Vic and folded his arms on top of it; he rested his head on his arms as he waited for Logan to get off the radio.

"So, what's the deal?" Logan asked once he was finished talking to Reynolds, the night watch sergeant who took over for Macy.

"Kevin said the coke belongs to his father and that he kept it in a cigar box in the upstairs office. I processed that room and I found the cigar box, but it was empty. I'll call CSU and have them check it for reside. He also said that he has no idea who came to the house."

"That it?"

Not knowing why, Bobby looked around the street before dropping his voice. "Yeah, he says that his father knew cops?"

"Hell, that's not anything new. Everyone with money on this island knows cops."

Bobby knew that, but that wasn't what he was trying to say. He stared over at Logan as he asked, "Would it surprise you if we found that the Connelly's had cops on their payroll?"

Logan had opened the door and was about to get into the car when that stopped him. He stared right back at him as he said, "No, but let's just say I'm not going down that road unless I necessary have too. And if I'm going down it, so are you, and with body armor and machine guns, and a suicide pill in case one of us gets captured."

Bobby smirked as he opened the passenger door. "Been thinking about that one for a while haven't you?"

Logan huffed out a laugh. "Since I've been here, every damn day."

* * *

Alex had beaten them back to the department by at least twenty minutes but she stuck around to help with the daily reports. By the time they were done with the paperwork, it was nearing eleven o'clock.

"Okay, genius. What's your theory?" Logan asked as he signed off on the last form and tossed the file into the stack in the middle of the three joined desks.

They had pushed an extra desk for Alex to use against the sides of his and Logan's desk so she could sit with them instead of way across the room. Bobby shook his head as he started to gather his copies of the case into his binder.

"Bullshit."

Bobby glared up at Logan who was eyeing him from across their desks.

"You've got both your partners here and you can't bullshit both of us. You've got something rattling around in that Ritalin deprived brain of yours. What is it?"

He looked from Logan to Alex as he said, "See how he speaks to me?"

Alex smiled. "He's right, and you can't change the subject. Spill."

Bobby liked seeing that smile and realized how much he had missed it. Taking his mind away from that and back to the case, he turned to Logan and sighed heavily. "I think that, uh…given the time of both deaths to be nearly exact, and that there's evidence of two, uh, guests, one male and one female. And if we're assuming that two different guns were used, then they, at one point, got the Connelly's separated, one went upstairs with Mrs. Connelly while the other stayed with Mr. Connelly…" he shrugged as he finished, "then they were killed."

"What'd you mean if we're assuming that two guns were used?"

Bobby leaned back in his chair as he answered Logan, "Ballistics hasn't come back yet. It could be the same gun…One gun, one killer. Just because there were two other people there, it doesn't mean both of them had the intent to kill. The hit, it's professional. The male I can see being a professional hit man, but the woman," he took a glance over at Alex. "I'm not sure about."

Alex rolled her eyes at him. "I'm an excellent shot."

"Yeah, but could you cold-bloodedly shoot another woman, a mother?"

"Okay," Logan interrupted before Alex could give him an answer. "Theory as to motive? I'm going with the drugs."

Bobby finally took his eyes from Alex's as he nodded. "Yeah, maybe. It could be that, or…and, the casino boats. Someone could be looking to take it over. With the gambling, drugs…I wouldn't be surprised to find that the Connelly are involved in something illegal, or organized crime," he said that while he thought about the tax records he had found and what they could mean.

Logan looked over at Alex while he said, "I used to think all this guesswork was meaningless. Now I've come to rely on it like actual fact."

Bobby rubbed at his tired eyes as he leaned all the way back in the chair, bringing the two-front legs up off the floor, and looked at the ceiling. His instinct was telling him that the tax records were a big part of the whole case. It felt like a spark lit up deep inside him and he had to follow it. He heard laughing and when he looked, he realized that both Logan and Alex were laughing at him.

The chair came back down with a 'thump' as the front legs hit the floor. He felt drawn between saying something and hiding his head but didn't do either. He was done with caring and he was done for the day as well. Looking at Logan then to Alex, he said, "We're going out for a drink," he gestured to Logan before adding, "You're welcome to come if you want, Eames."

Alex raised her eyes at him but didn't say anything as she thought that over. Finally, she told him, "Thanks, but it's late and I have some paperwork at One P.P. that I have to get done before I can head home."

"You sure?"

She gave him a smile as she stood, and then stretched her arms and back out. Her shirt stretched tighter around her body and chest as it came up a little, exposing a bit of her skin above the waistband of her jeans. Bobby blinked and looked away by looking into her eyes.

"Yep, I'm sure."

He was sure that he gave her a nod but wasn't certain as he watched her grab her black overcoat and slip it on. As she started to gather up her files and notes, it reminded him once again at how much their lives had changed. Alex no longer had him to rely on for note-taking and hauling around the bulky files. She was now the one responsible for all that along with everything else.

"See you tomorrow," Bobby heard his voice say; and it sounded like it was in a form of a question, like he wasn't certain if she would continue working with him.

He had just been staring at her body moments before. It could have freaked her out…even though he had seen her bare it all on many occasions. He realized he was waiting on an answer as Alex was looking at him as if he had lost his mind. He probably had.

Alex finally answered, "Yeah, you'll see me tomorrow." Then she gave Logan a wave before leaving the squad room.

Bobby watched until she rounded a corner and disappeared. That was when he noticed that Logan had been watching her leave as well. He felt the anger rise in him as his eyes narrowed.

Logan turned and immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Calm down; you're my partner and she's your girlfriend. That's off limits."

Bobby thought about that as he picked up his binder and grabbed his own black overcoat. Theoretically, yes, they were still together and she was still his girlfriend because neither of them had come out and said one way or the other if they were over or not. It was as if they were on a separation but hadn't yet started to try and work things out. Now he fully understood what Elliot Stabler was going through with his wife. The waiting to find out if the ship that had been sinking was too damaged to be saved or not was killing him.

He just had to wait until Alex told him what the deal was. As Bobby slid on his overcoat, he knew that with her he would wait forever if he had too. God that sounded pathetic. Bobby shook his head and followed Logan out of the squad room, down the long hallway, and then down the staircase that led out into the blistering cold night air.

Bobby never drove his mustang to work, especially now that he worked on the island. In the mornings, he would drive into Manhattan and meet up with Logan at his apartment or he would take the subway if Logan was already out at some diner or deli getting breakfast. Then Logan would drive them both to the ferry. After work was different because sometimes him and Logan would leave at different times, so he would either take a cab from work or have another cop who was leaving give him a lift. Hardly anyone who was a cop on Staten Island lived on Staten Island. That was usually the case with most officers. No cop wanted to work the streets he or she lived on. It caused too many problems.

"Wanna get a drink here or wait 'til we get to the city?"

"The sooner the better," Bobby said as he put his binder in the trunk of Logan's car where it would be safe.

"The cop bar or Code 7?"

Bobby stared at Logan over the top of the car. He wasn't in the mood tonight for Logan's game of twenty questions. Instead of giving him his usual assault of ridiculous answers, he pulled open the door a little too hard, making it bounce off the spring, and got in without answering.

Whatever ray of light that had settled in him earlier was gone and the dark storm clouds were once again settling in him. Alex was at Major Case all alone with no partner, and he was stuck on Staten Island having to listen to Mike Logan. He felt like a lost dog stuck out in the rain waiting for someone to let him in.

It was a ten-minute drive to the bar known around the department as Code 7, which was the radio call for 'out of service' or 'on break'. Basically, if the code was used then it meant that you weren't going to be able to be contacted for a while, essentially it was going AWOL from the job. It wasn't the official name of the small dive bar that was in the back of a rundown bowling alley, but that was what every cop on the island called it because it wasn't the cop bar. Being a cop, if you weren't at the cop bar then you might as well be Code 7.

The only door to the bar was off the back parking lot and it was a huge reinforced concreted metal slab. When the bar closed, there was no locking the door from the inside so there was only a padlock on the front. It also had no handle on it couldn't be opened from the outside. Anyone who wanted in had to bang on the slab and hope it was heard on the other side.

Bobby planted his feet firmly on the ground and brought his gloved left hand up and with every thing he had, pounded on the door.

"I like the way you do that," Logan told him in the quiet of the dark parking lot. "Sounds like judgment day's coming. Very nice."

"If it were a suspect's house, it would be," Bobby said as the door barely moved an inch.

The bouncer, a man they simply called Big given his height and size, asked through the door, "ID's? If you don't have 'em, get lost."

"Big," Logan said as he stepped up to the opening. "It's us, open up."

"Sorry," Big said as he pushed the door open a little more. "It's darker 'an shit out there."

The door was opened just wide enough to let them slip through before Big pulled it shut again. The place only held about fifty people without it being considered a fire hazard. Right then, there were less than half that and most were men. There were only a handful of women, two of which worked there.

Bobby took the only stool at the end of the bar on the corner beside the wall. It gave him a great view of the whole place even though the door was to his back. Logan sat just on the other side of the corner and was looking right at the assortment of liquor bottles that was lining the back of the bar below the mirror.

"You know, I don't even know the official name of this place," Bobby told Logan after he ordered a bourbon and coke. Saying the work 'coke' had reminded him of Kevin sitting in holding wondering about the rest of his life, so he had to change the subject and get his mind off it.

"I don't think it has one." Logan looked at the guy next to him and asked, "What'd you call this place?"

The man looked at Logan and with a drunken slur said, "I 'all it the cheap dive bar behind 'ah bowlin' alley."

Logan nodded his thanks. "How 'bout you?" he asked the woman bartender as she sat a beer in front of him. "What'd you call it?"

"Work," she told Logan before leaning over the bar and placing Bobby's glass down in front of him.

She was giving him plenty to look at if he was interested, but he wasn't; so Bobby looked at his glass until she was gone. The very first night Logan brought him there, which was a month ago, the woman, whose name he couldn't remember right at the moment, had started flirting with him. Logan had told him that she did it with every one who walked in, probably in hopes of getting better tips. At first, he agreed until he realized that she never did it with Logan or any of the other men seated at the bar. Or, it was that on the nights he was there, she only did it to him.

It didn't matter if she flirted with him or not, Bobby still tipped her a lot due to one reason: he always tipped generously usually no matter what.

"See," Logan was saying, "This is the no name bar. There isn't a sign or flyer or anything advertising this little place. It's just here with a big ass concrete slab separating us from the rest of the world. It says, 'come in if you have the balls, if not, the sports bar's around the corner for you pansies."

Bobby just looked at Logan and shook his head. The first swallow of the bourbon and coke was strong and it went down hard. It took three more to ease his throat and relax him.

"You know," Logan said after a long while of silence that Bobby had been enjoying. He saw that Logan was on his second beer and he was still sipping on his first drink. "You're a creature of habit. You order the same drink no matter what. Why don't you have a beer on me?"

Bobby sat the almost empty glass down as he explained to Logan, "If I start drinking beer, I'll be downing them like water, and I'll be drunk in an hour. Alcohol goes slower."

Logan slowly nodded. "Gotcha, you don't want to get smash and me having to drive your drunken ass home."

"Your right, I don't…and, uh, especially not here. I do my smashing at home where it belongs."

That got a laugh from Logan. "Why do I get the feeling you mean that in more ways than one?"

Bobby just shrugged as he took a few more sips, emptying the glass, and looked around the place. A few more people were coming in.

A well-built young man in his twenties, with dark blond hair stepped into the bar. He looked the place over before nodding to the other, much older man that was standing outside. The kid must have been the bodyguard. The older man look to be in his fifties with gray hair and he wore a charcoal gray suit, black dress shirt, red tie, and hanging off his arm was a much younger woman. She was wearing her finest pearls, black cocktail dress, and wearing a big fur coat that reminded Bobby of Amelia Ramirez who he had questioned earlier that day.

Bobby felt a tap on his shoulder; he turned and was looking right into Logan's dark blue eyes. "Mob?"

Logan looked over toward the door. "Yea," he said quietly but it still carried a hint of warning. "The casino boats must be docked, or…and my guess is, that he has a personal boat that takes him back and forth." He looked back at him and told him, "The Don of the Staten Island Italian mafia; his name's Paulie Savoie. Nice huh? Word is, he runs the entire underworld here. I call him Mr. Invincible."

"Why's that?" Bobby asked as he watched as Savoie took a table by the door.

Logan waited until Bobby looked back at him. "Let it go. Trust me, you don't want to get anywhere near him."

Bobby took one last look at the Don before turning around in his seat. He decided to let it go, for now.

A couple of hours later Bobby was talking to the woman bartender whose name he now knew was Susanna, when he heard a sound that stung his ears and sent a shiver down his spine. Looking over at the table in the corner by the door, he saw the woman in the black dress holding her reddening face. The hardening of her face couldn't stop the tear from the initial hit from falling down her cheek.

There was no holding up his shield in a place like that, but that didn't stop Bobby from marching over to the table and grabbing the hand when Savoie drew back to take another swing, and twist it back hard. The bodyguard was on him in a flash and he had to drop Savoie's hand to shove the kid away.

"Do y'have any idea, who I am?" Savoie asked in a quietly strong Brooklyn accent that didn't register a hint of emotion.

Bobby eyed Savoie and saw that his eyes were so dark they were nearly black and they too held no emotion. "Yes, I do," he told him just as quietly without letting his own emotions betray him. "And I think that such a, ah, respectable man like yourself wouldn't sink so low as to hit a woman."

Savoie stared long and hard at him before saying, "Steve-o," he called to his bodyguard. "Take this man, out back, have 'im wait for me."

As Bobby steadied his self and readied himself for a fight, he felt strong arms wrap around him from behind and pull him back.

"Whoa, easy! Cool it, Bobby," it was Logan and he pushed Bobby away from the table before Steve could get to him.

Bobby was breathing hard as it suddenly dawned on him what he had done. His hands clenched at his sides as he watched Logan face the Italian mafia Don that he had almost beat into the wall. Glancing over, he noticed that Big was sitting by the door and watching with an amused smirk on his face.

"Hey, Mr. Savoie, I'm sorry," Logan was trying to apologize from him. "He's new here. Okay? He didn't mean anything by it."

Savoie was rubbing as his hand as he kept his emotionless black eyes on him. "He your boy, Mike-e?"

Logan glanced back at him and nodded. "Yeah, you can say that. Look, he's drunk and his mother was hit on. You can't blame the guy for acting the way he did."

Bobby blinked back and eyed Logan in confusion. There was no way Logan could have known that about his mother seeing how he never told him. With trying to lie his way out of it, Logan had unknowing hit the nail right on the head.

The bar was very quiet and the only thing Bobby could hear was his own pounding heart and deep breathing. His fists were pulsing as he stared from Logan to Savoie who was eyeing him right back.

"O-kay," was all Savoie said before picking up his drink and turning his head away from them.

Bobby felt a wave of relief but he still didn't know what to do as he looked from Logan to Savoie and then to the woman at the table. She was holding a makeup case in one hand and powdering her face with the other as if it had never happened.

"C'mon, we've got to go." Logan was pushing him toward the door as he shoved his overcoat into his hands.

As they reached the door, Bobby stopped and looked over at the table. Savoie was watching him with those lazy looking dead eyes that were actually more frightening then if they held some sort of anger or rage.

"Go," Logan said sternly into his ear and pushed him through the door. Once out into the freezing night air, he turned to him. "That was the stupidest, most idiotic…He could've killed you!"

Bobby buttoned the top button on his coat as he calmly said, "He hit her."

"So! Let him! He's Italian mob," Logan said more softly like he suddenly realized how loud he was being and that his voice was carrying through the dark. "You don't fuck with those guys."

As they neared the car, Bobby said, "And you know him."

Logan stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Don't go there. I've been working this damn island for ten years. I know just about everyone, the good and the bad. I just don't fuck with the bad because I have this thing inside me called self-preservation. Something that you apparently lack." After telling him off, he dropped his hand, went to the car, and unlocked it. "I should let you walk, but you're my partner. Get in."

Bobby started walking as he glanced back at the building. Stopping at the passenger door, he asked, "How come no one has gotten to him yet?"

Logan groaned and yanked open the door. "Like I said, Mr. Invincible. Every cop on this island feels the same way I do; they want to get off it, not get buried under it."

"But--"

"Forget it, Bobby, it's Staten Island. Now get in before the Don changes his mind. I don't know about you, but I don't want to die tonight."

Half an hour later, Bobby stared down into the dark depths of the water that made the Hudson. The ferry was steadily making its way toward the city. Looking up, he stared at the spot where the two towers of the World Trade Center used to be and felt a sadness twist his stomach. He then looked over to Ellis Island and at the Statue of Liberty.

"You okay?"

Bobby glanced over at Logan and nodded.

"You know, every night I've been crossing this bay and looking at the statue, and every night I feel like a newly arriving immigrant with the fear and excitement of what'll await me once the boat docks. Weird, huh?"

Bobby looked away from the symbol of freedom and looked at Logan. "Wanna know what I think when I look at it?" When Logan looked at him, he told him, "I think of all the reasons why I'm a cop."

Then he turned back to looking into the water that was as black as Paul Savoie's eyes and knew that he would never forgot them. Not until he was seeing them behind metal bars of a jail cell.

TBC…


	3. The life of a cop

The drive home from Logan's apartment was so quiet it was depressingly still. He tried to turn on the radio to relieve some of the staleness in the air; after a few minutes it only caused his head to hurt worse. The quiet left his mind nothing to do except think, remember, and replay too many painful events. Events that had transpired weeks prior that brought him to the here and now.

When he worked he could forget; if only for ten hours a day. He coped that way. It was easy to cope when he was exhausted and drowned in cases and the puzzles left for him in the crime and the minds of those responsible. Coping also meant not eating three meals a day, or eating too much and drinking too much to keep his body and mind moving when he wanted to do nothing except sleep. Which brought him to be driving home in the middle of the night instead of sleeping. His body was aching and hurting from being pushed to the limit.

As soon as he parked his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. "Goren," he spoke into the phone.

Silence greeted him. He pulled the phone away and looked at the caller ID. He stared at the screen, not believing the name he read, and then quickly put it back up to his ear. "Eames?" he asked, a little stunned. "Don't hang up," he quickly added.

There was a deep sigh of air he heard on the other line. Bobby closed his eyes as he swallowed the hard lump that formed in his throat. "Thanks, for…staying with the case," his voice shook slightly as he said that. He was so confused on what to say. The last person he was expecting to talk to was her.

"It wasn't an easy decision."

Bobby's eyes opened as he stared at the door to his apartment. He never thought he would hear Alex's voice again; even if she was still angry with him. Then she was there at the murder of Greg Connelly and his wife. The last person he thought of working with again was her. "I know. Being your partner again, if only for this case, it's, uh, it has to be, hard. H-how, uh, how are you? Where are you?"

There was a pause where he thought maybe Alex decided that she didn't want to talk to him anymore, and then he heard, "I'm home."

Bobby reached up and rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear the cloudiness and fog out of his buzzed head. "You know, uh, whatever you've decided…" he sighed and took a deep breath. "I'll never try to keep you from doing what you want."

"Funny, I was expecting something a little different than that from you."

Bobby flinched at that; he didn't feel too good just then. "I'm not sure what to say here." He shook his head and tried to get his thoughts straight. He wished he could see her; see if what he was saying was the right thing or not. "All I can say is…for you to do what makes you happy."

"What makes me happy," she repeated back to him. "What if I don't know what that is?"

Bobby wasn't expecting that. Alex was the most decisive person he knew. She was the one who knew what she wanted and exactly how she was going to get it. For years she had been his rock; she was so strong. He had no way of responding to that, so he did what he always did in those situations, he said nothing.

He stared back up at the door and decided that he didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be anywhere in Brooklyn. His hands craved to touch Alex, to sooth whatever worries or doubts or even anger that was coursing through his partner just then. His partner. It had been seven weeks and he still thought of her as his partner. Alex was no longer his, partner or otherwise. She had left him. That caused his breathing to get heavy as he felt a sinking hot knot grow in his stomach.

"Bobby, I--" Alex stopped and sighed heavily.

Bobby could hear the sadness in her voice. "It's okay." He had to clear his throat before he said anything else. His voice had cracked on the last word. "I wasn't…uh, trying to--"

"No, it's…I shouldn't have bothered you. All I wanted to say was let's meet in the morning, for breakfast. You and Logan. There's some things we need to discuss. Say, eight o'clock at Marco's?"

"Uh, yeah, that's--"

"All right. I'll let you get back to drinking with Logan."

"I'm not--" Bobby stopped talking when he heard the dial tone in his ear. He looked at his phone. The connection was gone.

He flipped the phone shut and shoved it into his pocket as he got out of his car and slammed the door shut.

He dreaded doing this every night and even though he knew it wouldn't happen, he hoped for a different result each time he did it. Going up to his backdoor, and with a shaky left hand, Bobby reached for the door knob. The key lingered in the lock as he released a heavy sigh before closing his eyes and turning it. Opening the door, silence greeted him. As he stepped into the kitchen, he still didn't hear a thing until the central heating kicked on.

His house was empty.

Tossing the keys onto the kitchen table, he watched as they slid across the top and fell to the floor. Staring at the fallen keys then at the trail they left in the dust across the table, he realized he hadn't cleaned his home in a really long time. It smelled, the plants were dead, and it was dusty.

He had fallen back into his old routine: work, work, more work, sleep at work, eat when he remembered, and then work some more. That kind of daily routine was going to kill him. He knew that, but he really didn't seem to care. It was probably time to rehire his cleaning lady.

Turning back to the door, he shut it and turned the lock. To secure it was really locked he pulled on the door handle just to be certain. As he walked through the kitchen that he barely cooked in anymore, he came to a stop at the entryway and leaned against the frame. For nearly ten years, he never had a table in his kitchen. He never needed one. Then, when he had moved into the apartment after his abduction, he had decided that he needed one so he could cook dinner for Alex. He went to about every furniture store until he found the perfect one that fit the kitchen.

Eyeing the small wooden table, his thoughts began to drift to one of the last times he remembered sitting there.

_Her hair was sticking up at odd angles and the black sweatpants were hanging loosely around her waist; the waistband kept inching its way down her hip on one side. The blue tank top she had on was barely containing her breasts as sweat soaked through it, making it stick to her skin. Her eyebrows hitched up in confusion as the coffee cup she had been holding eased back down onto the table. _

"_Wow, you have a seriously creepy stare going on, Bobby. Are you okay?"_

_He snapped out of his stare as he felt his fingers clench the napkin on his lap. "No, uh, I mean, yes. It's just….your beauty took me by surprise." That won him a sly smile and wink. He then continued to wipe furiously over the spilt coffee on the front of his shirt before getting up from the table and leaving the kitchen. "So, how're you going to enjoy your day off?"_

_Alex had to yell as he wandered down the hall to the laundry room. "Oh, I don't know. Catch up on some reading, exercise some more, maybe…"_

_Whatever else Alex was saying was lost on him as he was only half paying attention as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it into the washer. He went into his bedroom, pulled on a new dress shirt before grabbing the hamper full of dirty clothes from the bathroom as he decided to wash a whole load. "Sounds great," he called into the kitchen as he passed it, going back into the laundry room._

"_Really?"_

_He nearly dropped the hamper from Alex's voice being so close. Turning slightly, he eyed her over his shoulder. "Yeah."_

"_You didn't even hear me, did you?" Alex glared at him as she leaned against the dryer._

_He went to protest but snapped his mouth shut. That look only meant one thing: Alex knew he hadn't been listening. "No, I didn't. Sorry."_

_Alex was quiet for a moment before she uttered softly, "You always seem to not be listening." She then smiled a little as she leaned over and kissed him on the lips before helping him with the laundry. "I wonder just what we can do that'll make you hear me better."_

_He let the 'listening' comment go as he raised his eyes to her and felt a small tug of a smile on his lips. "Did I hear a challenge in that statement?" _

"_Only if you're a betting man."_

_From the stern lips and solid brown-eyed stare he was given, he knew Alex wasn't joking. He was, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity. "You think you're up for it?" Forgetting the washer that was half-full, he stepped closer to the beautiful wonder that had captured his heart and kissed her softly on the lips. _

_There was a soft smile on Alex's face as he pulled back while she started walking backwards out of the room. "Depends. What's in it for me?"_

_The warmth from Alex's breath sent tingles down his spine. He licked his lips as he leaned forward as they continued moving down the hall. As he tasted the sweet flavor of his lover on his lips and tongue, his arms wrapped around the silky soft waist he had come to crave and touch. He had to pull back slightly to give his answer. "I thought the 'listening' thing was it. However, I can substitute that for an exquisitely prepared dinner." _

_Feeling the shift in air, he looked behind Alex and realized that they had made it to the bedroom without tripping over anything. New record, he thought as he grinned. _

"_What's that about?"_

_When his eyes meet Alex's, he shook his head and shrugged. "Nothing."_

_Alex eyed him again as her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt. "Are you ever going to let me know what's going on in that head of yours?"_

_He didn't know if Alex was still teasing him or if that was a serious question. Sometimes it was hard to tell. "Hmm, maybe."_

_Alex glanced up at him and stilled her hands on the shirt. Her hands dropped before she walked around him and headed out of the room. "You know what? Since I've got court tomorrow, I really should go over my testimony. Maybe next time," she threw at him over her shoulder just before she turned the corner and was gone._

It rarely happened to him like that. He hardly ever lost it so quickly and at the thought of a memory. But something in him let go and he crossed the few feet to the table, gripped the chair in his hot hands then swung it onto the table's top until it bucked and the chair busted in half. A second later, Bobby dropped the broken chair and stumbled backwards until his back pressed hard against the refrigerator.

With his muscles pulsing and hands trembling, he didn't know whether to be horrified by what he had done or that he had the urge to do it again. Just like last time. Just like the night he had driven Alex away.

Bobby stared at the broken chair that lay shattered on the kitchen floor. His jaw hurt from clenching it so hard as he rubbed at his face and head as the pain continued to grow. His legs were feeling heavy as he turned and made his way to the bedroom.

The bed was unmade and honestly he couldn't think of when he had slept in it for more than a few hours. He slowly undressed as he glanced around the room. It was exactly how she had left it for him: empty and depressing. The laundry hamper was overflowing with clothes he hadn't gotten around to washing. The walk-in closet was bare; even if his clothes were hanging up it would still look empty from Alex's missing clothes.

Slowly stepping into the bathroom he eyed the space where Alex's toothbrush used to sit as he scratched lightly at his growing beard. Opening the cabinet, he reached for the bottle of aspirin and pulled it down. After swallowing the pills, he left the bottle on the sink as he went back into the bedroom. Sliding under the cold sheets he started to shiver. It felt cold under the sheets because she wasn't there to warm them up for him.

It was only him.

The bed wasn't comfortable and he didn't think he would ever fall asleep. Alex made it comfortable, relaxing, and warm. He shook under the blankets until he couldn't take the coldness anymore and got up. Gathering up the blanket and a pillow, he made his way into the living room.

* * *

Logan had promised him he wouldn't be late in the morning and that a big cup of coffee would be waiting for him when he got there. There was nothing waiting for him when he pulled up in front of the building Logan lived in, not even Logan. There was no answer when he had tried both the home and cell phone numbers. On the fifth try, Bobby got out of the warmth of his Mustang and climbed the four flights to Logan's apartment.

A copy of the 'New York Ledger' was lying outside the door. He bent over and picked it up as he knocked on the door. After two attempts, he pulled out the spare key Logan had exchanged with him the first day they were partnered up, and unlocked the door. It was dark in the apartment but he remembered where the lamp was and switched the light on. Logan's leather jacket was thrown over the side of the couch and his shoes were kicked off by the door; other than that, it seemed nothing else had been disturbed.

Heading down the hall to the bedroom, he checked the bathroom and found it empty as well. Approaching the door at the end of the hallway, he hesitated before knocking. There were many rules a man lived by, and one of them was never walk into another man's bedroom, ever; not unless there was a strong suspicion that the man in the room was dead or dying. He knocked hard and loud on the door and then waited.

There was mumbling and then a grumbling utterance of the word 'fuck' over and over again. "I'll be right out," Logan's voice called out to him behind the door.

Bobby chuckled at the loud banging behind the door before saying, "Take your time, it's not like we have murders to investigate."

By the time Logan appeared in the living room, Bobby was sipping on a cup of coffee and reading through the sports section of the paper. Looking up, he watched as Logan tossed the towel that had been around his neck onto a chair at the table. He started to button his cuffs and had yet to tie the plaid tie that was hanging loosely down the front of his white dress shirt.

Logan eyed him as he asked, "You were worse off than I was. Why are you so bright-eyed and glowing this morning?"

Bobby smirked as he took a sip of the coffee, "Seeing your miserable face brightened my day."

Logan glared at him as he headed to the kitchen. "You made it miserable with that lapse of sanity you had last night."

Bobby ignored him as he went back to looking over the college football scores while he wanted for Logan to finish getting ready for work.

"I can't believe this came out of my cabinet." Logan sat down in the recliner across from him as he took a drink of the coffee. "Why don't you come over and make me coffee every morning? And while you're at it, you can throw in some bacon and eggs--"

"And you can go fuck yourself."

Logan nearly choked on his coffee at that before he started laughing. "C'mon, I bet you miss being a domesticated man in the morning."

Bobby glared at Logan as he tossed the paper on the coffee table next to Logan's keys and stood. "Knock it off, and hurry up and get ready. We're having breakfast with Eames this morning."

Logan's smile grew as he started enticing him, "Oh, oh, so that's why you're so bright-eyed. I knew there had to be something going on when I saw that you actually shaved this morning."

Bobby was getting irritated as he paced from the table to the door then back. "I said knock it off."

"Or what? Huh, we have plenty of time. I can just sit here, all morning, drinking this nice cup of joe--"

Bobby snatched the keys off the table as said, "I'm driving," before he took off out the door.

"Like hell," Logan shouted as he started after him, chasing him out of the apartment. "Aw, fuck!"

Bobby turned as he continued to move down the hallway toward the steps. Logan was wiping coffee off his pants and he had to laugh at the glare that was tossed his way. "I'll be waiting."

"Goren! You're not driving my car…Goren!"

Bobby couldn't help but torment Logan a little while longer as he jingled the keys as he jogged down the steps. "You've got ten minutes," he called over his shoulder.

If he had tried to pull that stunt with Alex, she would have beat him to the ground and took the keys away from him before he even made it out of her apartment. Logan, on the other hand, was fair game.

Exactly nine minutes later Logan pounded on the driver side window as he yelled, "Get the fuck out of my car!"

Bobby roared the engine of the '72 Firebird a few more times before giving in. He held his hands up as he unlocked the door and got out.

Logan shoved him away from the door making him laugh a little harder. "You're such an asshole."

"You asked for it. You didn't have coffee waiting for me this morning like you promised."

"If I had, I won't have found out how talented you are at making it your damn self," Logan shot back as he slid into the driver's seat.

Bobby yanked open the passenger door just as his cell phone rang in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that it was Alex. "Hey, we're--"

"There's been a change in plans. You guys need to come to Major Case. Forensics worked overtime on our evidence. I've got some pretty interesting results to share."

At hearing that, he nearly froze. He hadn't been back to his old squad since he left, and that was the last place he wanted to be. "All right, we'll be there as soon as we can." Bobby flipped the phone shut as he looked over at Logan. "We're going to One Police Plaza for breakfast instead."

Logan put the car into drive as he told him, "I hope they have good donuts."

* * *

As soon as he stepped through the gate and headed to the doors of One Police Plaza, Bobby could feel the eyes on him. Officers that used to greet him every morning for four years were now eyeing him and whispering to other officers as he walked by them. Opening the door, he held it for Logan before heading over to the desk.

Kathy spotted him and not even her genuinely warm smile could make him feel better. "Detective Goren, it's been too long. How are you?" the older woman greeted him as he stopped at the desk.

"I'm fine, thanks. Uh, this is Detective Logan, my new partner."

Kathy smiled warmly at Logan before addressing him again, "There's not a day that goes by that I don't wish you were back here. Oh," she exclaimed as she reached behind her and picked up a couple of bakery boxes off the counter. "I had gotten these for the Chief's floor, but they're having an all day conference at the convention center."

Bobby took the boxes before thanking the woman, "Thanks. I'm sure the guys up on the eleventh floor will love these." He waited patiently for a moment before telling Kathy, "Um, I'm gonna need a couple of visitor passes."

"Oh, right, I'm sorry. I'm just so used to you working here…Hang on just a sec while I get those for you."

Bobby handed the boxes off to Logan as he explained, "Every day since 9/11, Kathy has bought donuts for every department here. It's her way of, you know, showing her appreciation."

"I wished she worked on Staten Island. The only thing we get offered are bribes and the occasional threat."

Kathy returned with their passes and as she handed them to him, she said, "I hope to see you again, Detective. And good luck on your case."

Bobby nodded to woman as he followed behind Logan to the elevators. Once they got in an empty one, Logan started laughing. "What?"

"I think she has a crush on you."

Bobby redden as he pushed the button for the eleventh floor. "She's old enough to be my mother."

"I know, that's what makes it funny."

As he felt his face redden, he heard Logan laugh harder. Bobby rubbed at his neck as he tried to ease the embarrassment away as well as the urge to hit Logan.

"You're really embarrassed aren't you," Logan asked in disbelief at his sensitivity. "Look, I didn't mean anything--"

"It's okay; forget about it," he said as he tried to shake it off. Bobby didn't know what was worse: Logan teasing him about Kathy or Logan apologizing for embarrassing him.

Logan was suddenly very quiet and serious as he continued to watch him. "I know that we barely know each other, but…I've been noticing some things about you."

Bobby turned to face Logan as he waited for the confrontation he knew was coming; it had only been a matter of time. "Some things? Like what, exactly?"

Logan wasn't expecting the hostility as he stepped back a little. "Not here, okay. I don't want to risk any damage to the donuts in case you decide to pound me."

So, whatever it was, Logan was afraid of him having a bad reaction to it. _Great. _Bobby shook his head as he heard the bell ding just before the doors slid open. Looking out into the hallway at the familiar red bricks and blue wall, he swallowed hard and stepped out in front of Logan.

If he thought the looks he had received in the lobby were bad, the ones in the squad room could have paralyzed him. These were the guys he used to work with, who had seen him at his best and worst, through his most sane ideas to most insane theories. He had never really cared what any of them thought about him, or said about him, or how they looked at him. That had all changed when Alex was taken and most of their secrets were exposed.

"Where do I put these?"

Bobby pointed toward the break room that was to the left as his eyes fell upon Alex's empty desk, and the one that used to be his that was completely void of all life. There were no books next to it, no files on top of it, and nothing in the drawers. Looking to Captain Deakins office, he saw that Alex was in there talking to him.

Turning away from the prying eyes of the Major Case Squad detectives, he followed Logan into the break room. Taking out enough donuts for him and Alex, and then making them both a cup of coffee, he went back out to her desk.

As he sat the food and drinks down, the door to the captain's office opened and Alex started toward him. With spotting him, and then the food on her desk, she smiled. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me; thank Kathy. Those come from the boxes that were supposed to go to the ninth floor."

"Ah, but all the Brass are out of the department today. Conference at the convention center." Alex sat down at her desk and picked up the cup of coffee. "Are you going to sit?"

Bobby eyed the seat that used to be his before looking around at the other desks. Anderson was gone for the day so he took his chair and rolled it over to the side of Alex's desk before sitting down. He offered the other seat to Logan. Watching Logan sit at the desk that used to be his wasn't a pleasant feeling, but he couldn't bring himself to sit where he no longer belonged. He was an outsider to the squad now, and no longer Alex's partner.

Taking his mind off the troubling thoughts that invaded him, he tapped the file on her desk. "Results?" he asked before picking it up without being given an answered.

"Uh, yes," Alex said as she watched him. The worry was already etched on her face but once he took the file, she got down to business. "There was saliva found on the wineglasses, and DNA from the lipstick."

"Man and a woman, right," Logan asked as he ate his breakfast and drank the coffee in his hand.

Bobby shook his head as he reread the report. "Not even close," he said as he flipped the pages over making sure he had read the information correctly. "This guy, he's good. Or, at least he was until the lab techs found his DNA on both glasses."

Logan looked over at him as he asked dumbfounded, "Both glasses?"

"Saliva in one of the glasses, it's from a male. XY chromosomes. The wineglass with the cheap lipstick," he said as he glanced over at Alex, "It matches the saliva."

"Okay, so…the guy drank from the woman's glass."

Bobby handed the report to Logan so he could see it for himself. "The DNA wasn't found _in_ the glass. It was found in the lipstick. It was left when the killer put his lips on the glass. There was no saliva found in the reside of wine that was left in it."

"No one drank from that glass," Alex said as she picked up where he left off. "There's only one killer."

"And only one person had been in the house with the Connelly's," Logan said once he had finally caught up with them. "He staged the scene, why?"

Bobby shook his head in thought as he tried to piece the puzzle together. It was too soon in the investigation and none of the pieces were fitting. "I don't know. It was clearly planned out. Even killing them in separate rooms to make it look like there were two killers. Question is, how did he kill one without the other taking off? There were no signs that he tied them up or drugged them."

"He could have used a silencer," Alex said as she took the report from Logan and put it back on her desk.

"You know," Bobby said as he leaned on the desk. "Mr. Connelly ha-had the phone in his hand. The number nine was the only number he had dialed before he was shot."

"If he was calling 9-1-1, then that means he heard or saw his wife get shot. Mrs. Connelly was the first victim."

"Why her," Alex asked, cutting Logan off. "She was upstairs in the bedroom. It seems to me that the husband would have been the easiest to kill first, and then trap her upstairs. Mr. Connelly could have done anything by the time the killer came back down the stairs, including calling the police, or getting a gun…"

"She was the first to die. It didn't matter to the killer that he had to go upstairs and leave Mr. Connelly alone downstairs, he took that risk because…maybe she was the main target. He lured her up there to kill her, alone and in private. Maybe a silencer was used. Like you said, Mr. Connelly should've had enough time to call the police if he heard the shot, or ran up the stairs to see what was going on, but he didn't."

"Maybe that's because he was expecting it," Logan suddenly announced.

Bobby looked at Logan as that thought entered his mind. It could have been a setup by the husband to have his wife killed. "Yeah, maybe."

"There are too many 'maybe's' in all this, even for me," Alex stressed as they all looked up to see Deakins approaching. "Captain," she greeted him as he stopped next to the joined desks.

"Alex, Bobby," Deakins greeted them before turning to Logan, "Detective Logan. So, I just got off the phone with the Governor and he's breathing down my neck over this, not only because who the victims are but who the detectives are."

Bobby looked over at Alex and saw the shock on her face as she went to protest.

Deakins waved her off as he told her, "Relax, I went to bat for you guys working this case together, but this is very high profile."

Bobby felt a cold shiver run down his spine at where this was going. A tight knot was forming in his heart and stomach as the captain continued.

"And a press case. I don't want to lose my pension over this, and with all that has happened with everyone at this desk, even you Logan," Deakins said as he shot a look at the detective, "I had to make a deal."

"A deal…You're not splitting us up are you?" Bobby asked even though he feared the answer. In a way, he already knew it. This had all been too good to have lasted.

"Bobby," Deakins tried to warn him.

"No, this is…Look, I know that we've barely started on this case, but we're developing a good motive and, uh, we're starting to make sense of the evidence and what it could mean…"

"Look, no one trusts you guys more than I do, but you have to look at this from the outside."

"You mean from the political side, right, Captain?"

"Bobby," it was Alex's voice now warning him.

He looked at her and saw the apprehension in her face as she shook her head. Bobby sighed deeply and shut his mouth.

Deakins rubbed at his head as he gave him an exasperated look; it was one he had seen too many times from the captain. "I'm sorry, but I have to hire you," he was telling Alex, "a new partner by the end of this week. Once I do, Bobby and Logan, you guys will be off it."

Those were the words he never wanted to hear. The knot that had been growing in his chest and stomach twisted as his anger grew. Bobby shifted his eyes to Alex and saw that she was just as stunned as he was.

"Captain," this time it was Alex pleading, "can it wait?"

The reality of the situation was setting in her and it was surprising him that she was just as reluctant to getting a new partner was he was with hearing it. Alex was actually looking like she was losing him, and this time for good. That look nearly crushed him. Bobby had thought all this time that she was over him, that she was happy not being tied down to him. He was seeing now that he had been wrong. This was tearing her apart.

"Believe me, I've tried. The thing is, I get no say in this, or in who I hire. The Chief already decided for me. There's a detective from the 9-6, homicide bureau who recently got promoted and put in a transfer to Major case. And, he's the Assistant Chief of Detective's nephew, Harry Copeland. He'll be here Friday."

Bobby watched as Alex tried to regain herself as she nodded before getting up and leaving the room. He turned in his seat and watched as she walked down the hall before disappearing around the corner. Logan had remained quiet the whole time and when he finally looked at him, he could see the same sense of anger in his eyes that he knew were in his.

This was bullshit. Bobby closed his eyes as he felt the world closing in on him yet again. One of these days he was really hoping it would stop doing that.

As he went to stand, his cell phone buzzed against his hip. Looking at the display, he saw that it was the Lieutenant; he and Logan were wanted back on Staten Island, and it was urgent. "We've got to get back to Staten Island," he told Logan. While approaching the elevators, Bobby turned to Logan as he asked him, "Give me a minute."

He headed around the corner and immediately knew where Alex had run off too. Not caring about formalities or courtesy, he pushed open the door to the woman's restroom and walked right in.

She was leaned up against the far wall with her arms crossed over her chest looking pissed off at the world, and at him with seeing him standing there. "This is the woman's--"

"I know," he said, cutting her off. Bobby looked around and made sure there was no one in the stalls before taking a step toward her. "I didn't realize…"

Alex tensed even more, making him stop in his approach. "That this is the woman's restroom," she told him once more.

Bobby suddenly felt like he was intruding on her, stepping over and into a boundary she had created. And he was going to plow it down like always because he couldn't help himself. "That you still…cared. That you still want me a-as, uh, as your partner."

Alex jaw worked back-and-forth as she eyed him. He was pushing it, pushing her, even with the truth, and it didn't even occur to him that now was not the right time. She shook her head at him and pushed off the wall. "Even after seven weeks of my silence towards you, you still haven't learned when you're pushing too hard. You called me every day, Bobby. Every day, some days, more than once. I told you my terms and you still insisted, you still had to try to take control."

Bobby felt the guilty shame fill him as his head dropped. He was screwing it up again.

"And even now, you barged into a woman's restroom and cornered me like this."

"I'm--"

"If you say you're sorry to me one more time, I'll hit you."

His mouth snapped shut as he kept his head down. Bobby could take the berating because he had even known that he was pushing and still did it. It was him. He couldn't change his need to know, his need to push. There was no way he could learn how not to do what was so natural for him; it was so easy and thoughtless.

He threw his hands up in front of him like a shield as he lifted his head to be looking at her. Stepping back, Bobby said in anger and defeat, "Fine, I'll go. I was just concern--…I'll fucking go, okay."

The door hit the wall as he stormed out of the restroom and nearly walked right into a woman detective as she was about to enter the restroom. He ignored the shocked and confused look on her face as he rounded the corner and hit the button for the elevator.

Logan was surprisingly quiet the entire ride down to the lobby.

Bobby shook his head as he tossed the visitor's badge onto the desk without saying anything to Kathy before heading out of the department. Once out onto the street, and buttoning up his overcoat, he turned to Logan saying, "I want to check out the casino boats."

"What about Eames?"

Bobby didn't want to think about her just then. He flipped open his phone and dialed her number. He was so upset when he left he forgot to tell her where he was going. To his surprise, she answered. "Uh, Eames, Logan and I have to go to Staten Island, our Lieutenant needs to see us. And, on the way, we were going to stop by the casino boats."

She was silent for a moment before responding, "That's fine. I have to be here for the autopsy and Harlan is coming in to go over those tax papers you found."

"So…I'll call you once we're done." Bobby said before she agreed and hung up. "The boats are on the way to the department…It shouldn't take us too long to see what's going on."

"The Lieu's gonna be pissed," Logan said as they approach his car.

"I know, but she can wait." Bobby stopped at Logan's car and watched as he came following behind him slowly. "You don't have to go."

After a short debate, Logan smirked as he said, "Don't worry, I'm in."

There was a reason everyone was apprehensive about him and Logan being partnered together, and as Bobby followed Logan to the car, he knew that they had been right with their concerns.

* * *

The two casino boats that the Greg Connelly owned were mad houses. Bobby hadn't seen so many winners at one time anywhere. The place was packed, every seat was filled, and everyone's pockets were getting fatter.

"I've never seen anything like this, have you?"

Bobby shook his head as he eased his way through the mass of bodies that were glimmering and glamour-ing around him. Going up to a higher platform, he was able to see most of the floor. Winners were laughing and screaming at every poker table, roulette wheel, and slot-machine.

Turning his head toward the poker tables, he scanned them over. A man who had his back to him turned and he felt his back straighten. He shouldn't have been surprised to see him there, but he honestly was.

"What is it?"

Bobby pushed off the railing he was leaning on and headed back down to the floor. Moving around the irritating gamblers and drunks, he eased up to the table and looked at the flop on the table before looking at his brother. "You have a Jack, Ace high."

Frank nearly jumped out of the chair as his head whipped around. "Jesus Christ, Bobby, what?"

Bobby pointed to his cards. "Let me see."

Frank looked hesitant before turning the edges over just enough for him to see. He was right. "How'd you know?"

"You raised on-on the flop of a-a, uh, Jack…Five, and a Ace. And I can read you better than my favorite book…You weren't bluffing."

Frank looked annoyed for a moment before he went back to the playing the game. "Well, now that you blew my chance at winning, I fold." He stood as he grabbed up the chips he had won while asking, "What'd you want?"

"Let's get a table."

Frank was looking around the floor and finally pointed to a couple of empty tables in the bar area. "Can I buy you a drink, Bobby?"

As Bobby followed next to his brother, he shook his head while looking around. "I'm on duty."

"Come on, just one, and I said I was buying."

"He said he's on duty."

Bobby had been so interested in his brother he had forgotten that Logan was with him. He saw the confusion and wonder in Frank's eyes as he turned to face Logan.

"And just who the hell are you?"

Bobby went to settle his brother down and introduce Logan when Logan beat him to it.

"I'm his partner," Logan said as he showed his Frank his shield.

The tension that rose in Frank wasn't lost on Bobby; even though he was a cop, Frank despised anyone with a badge, mostly because he was always on the wrong side of one. "Okay, what's going on here, Bobby?"

"Look," Bobby said as he pointed to an empty chair at a table. "Have a seat, Frank. I just wanna talk, that's all."

Frank reluctantly sat but before he did anything else, he waved a waitress over and ordered a drink. "Are you sure you don't want anything? My treat."

Bobby eyed his brother and nodded. He was a little uneasy with Frank offering, insisting, to buy him a drink. Frank never offered him anything, yet alone to spend his money on him. The last time he had seen his brother was after his abduction. He was feeling alone, and afraid, and he needed his brother. That had been another mistake; instead of talking, they had argued and things were said that he feared would have pushed them further apart.

Now, sitting across from his brother once again, he could tell that they were both struggling to be civil with one another. Frank's offer was just that, a way of trying to make it look like they were okay.

"You know what," Bobby suddenly said before the waitress turned away, "I'll have that drink, thanks." He glanced over and caught Logan's eyes; shaking his head, he silently told Logan to leave it alone.

Frank smiled slightly before telling the woman, "Add another bourbon and coke--"

"Scotch, actually," Bobby interjected. "A, uh, scotch…Glenlivet, please. Thank you," he told the woman as she wrote it down then walked away.

Frank watched the waitress all the way until she had disappeared out of sight before turning his attention back to him. His brother had the same wandering eyes as their father, they were even the same color. Where he had his mother's brown eyes, Frank had their father's blue ones.

After a moment of staring at each other, Frank shrugged his shoulders asking, "Well, are you going to tell me why you pulled me away from a sure win?"

Bobby looked over at Logan and saw the same question in his eyes that his brother had asked. "How long have you been coming here?"

Frank shrugged, "I don't know, a couple times a month."

"Has it ever, you know, been like this?"

Frank made a show of looking around before answering, "You mean looking like Christmas come early? Never."

"So, it's usually hard to win here."

"Of course, what casino isn't? Hey, listen, Bobby, I don't know much about why this is happening, as long as I'm winning, I don't care. I just thank God and get my cash and continue on my way. I mean, look around you, does it look like anyone here cared about what happened to the owner?"

Bobby shook his head at his brother as he admitted softly, "No. Were you here last night? Yesterday?"

Frank leaned back in the chair as his eyes narrowed, "Am I a suspect?"

"He wasn't killed here, Frank. Were you, or weren't you?"

His eyes near strayed from his as he told him, "I was here, 'til 'bout one. Then I cashed out and went home."

"Cash out…You won big?"

"No, I broke even. I couldn't win a game to save my life."

Bobby looked over at Logan as he nodded. "Okay. That's…uh, yeah, okay. I don't have anymore questions."

The waitress appeared beside them and sat down their drinks. Frank asked how much they were and only paid her the price for the drinks before getting up and heading back to the poker table. He didn't even tell him 'bye'.

Bobby sighed as he reached for his wallet and stopped the waitress from walking away. Pulling out enough for a pretty good tip, he gave the money to the woman before staring at the drink. Rubbing at his jaw, he pushed it away and stood. "The money."

Logan shrugged, asking, "What about the money?"

"They're giving it away. All of it. You heard what my brother said. Yesterday, there wasn't a chance in hell at winning, then today, after Connelly's murder, it's Christmas. I can only think of one reason why they would want to do that."

Logan stood perplexed for a long moment before smirking, "To get rid of the dirt."

Bobby nodded. "If they give it all away, it filters out into the economy, going to hotels, cars--"

"Hookers."

"You know, money can be traced…" Bobby hesitated as he glanced over at Logan. "We need to get some of it."

Logan was smiling as he followed him down to the floor. "I don't think us flashing our badges is going to get us a couple thousand in winnings, Goren."

Bobby looked around as he said, "Who said anything about flashing badges? Hit up the roulette table, I'll play '21'."

Logan stared at him before silently agreeing and walking away, muttering, " Fine, I'll take my chances with a little white ball going around in circles."

Bobby caught his brother's eyes for a brief moment as he headed to the black jack tables. Frank was watching him with curiosity until he was out of sight from him. Sitting down at the table, he felt it odd and frightening that he was in the same casino as his estranged, gambler brother. And even though they were so close, they were still miles away from one another.

* * *

"She's going to kill us."

"Logan, we're fine."

"We're two hours late, Goren. That isn't fine. We're dead. D.E.A.D, dead! You've never seen her pissed off. She's like an hungry lion attacking an antelope to feed her young. Relentless."

Bobby jogged up the steps and headed down the hallway that lead to the homicide department. "We were investigating our case, which we're entitled to and have every right to do. So what if we got distracted."

"Distracted? No, an hour counts as distraction. Two hours of you playing '21' because you couldn't walk away…That's addiction, pal."

Bobby felt the anger spur in him and as he went to say something to Mike the Lieutenant's voice cut him off.

"Detectives! My office and you better run."

As they approached the office, Logan whispered into his ear, "Dead."

Bobby sat down as Logan closed the door that was directly behind him. Unlike the Major Case squad, the office wasn't made of glass, in fact, it only had one window that looked out into the busy room.

The commanding officer was Lieutenant Theresa Williams; she was a twenty-two year veteran with the NYPD and tough as nails. Having only been under her command for seven weeks, he had yet to learn her limitations. Bobby was certain that from the tight scowl of her face and the death glare he was given as she leaned back against her desk and crossed her arms, he was about to find out just how far he could push her before he regretted it.

"So, did the car die?"

Bobby looked to Logan who looked to him. He sighed and shook his head.

"Ran out of gas?"

Again, he shook his head.

"One of you die?"

Now Bobby eyed her with irritation of his own at that ridiculous question. "No, ma'am."

"Then tell me why you blatantly ignored my request to be in my office two hours ago, detective."

"We were investigating our case," Bobby simply told her as he tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. It didn't work.

"And what case might that be? From what I understand, the Connelly murders will soon belong solely to Major Case."

"Yes, on Friday. It's Wednesday, and it's still our case until we're officially--"

"Taken off it. I get that, detective, however," she took a long pause as she uncrossed her arms and placed them on the edge of her desk.

Logan muttered something inaudible under his breath before he leaned back in the chair, then louder he told him, "Here we go."

"I am your commanding officer. I gave you a direct order to get to my office, that it was urgent. I am the one you answer to and inform when you decide to go running around New York, and I'm the one that gets pissed as hell when she finds out that her detectives are on a casino boat gambling instead of reporting to my office."

Bobby shifted in his seat as he took a hesitate glance at Logan. How did she know that they were on the boat and what they were doing? "All that was for our case," he explained more strongly, rising his voice. "The casino boat was owned by Mr. Connelly--"

"I don't care if it was owned by Jesus Christ himself, you disobeyed a direct order."

Bobby wasn't sure what he was surprised with most, the fact that she was able to belittle him and make him feel wrong without raising her voice, or the fact that he was actually admitting to himself that he was wrong. Staring at the woman who was his superior, he nodded slightly in agreement. "You're right, I did."

Lieutenant Williams looked at him for a long moment before addressing Logan. "Detective Logan, you've been here for how long now? Ten years."

Logan only nodded.

"You're his partner, his _senior_ partner. Explain yourself."

Logan raised a hand as he explained with a light shrug, "I agreed with him. They were just giving the money away. There were winners every other minute…It didn't seem right. We figured they were trying to get rid of all the dirty money before the cops showed up snooping around. Goren decided that we should get some of it to track, see where the money's been, and then put it back into the casino and see where it goes. It would take more than just a few hundred, in case we lost track of some through the system, so we figured a few thousand would be better."

To Bobby it actually looked like she was taking that into consideration, but with Theresa Williams, it was hard to tell. He had not yet figured out how to read her. She was better at hiding what she was thinking and feeling than Alex. Or it could have been the simple fact that she was a woman, and he had never been able to understand women. His only womanly influence while growing up was his mother.

Lieutenant Williams didn't say anything as she went around her desk and sat down in the chair. Looking them both over, she finally said, "You're both extremely lucky I need you, or else you would both be suspended. Fortunately for you, Detective Sullivan quit this morning."

Both Bobby and Logan looked at one another in confusion. Bobby looked back at his boss as he said, "Uh, fortunately?"

"It's because of him quitting that I'm not making you two miserable for the next two weeks, like I said, I need you. Him quitting is putting this department in a bind. The year is coming to an end, and that means I need to report our yearly numbers to the brass." She leaned forward on her desk as she explained their reason for being there, "It was no secret that Sullivan had the worst solve record in this department. I'm looking to get a lot of requisitions from the guys upstairs, and in order to do so, I need us to have better numbers by the end of the year."

Bobby was already catching on to the where she was going. "You need his solve rate to go up?"

"Exactly, but he's no longer here. So, not only am I stuck with one less detective, but I'm also stuck with his eighteen open cases. You two have closed every case that's come your way in just seven weeks, and Logan's record before you came was very decent. I want you two to take a look at Sullivan's open cases and try to close as many as you can before the clock turns to twelve on New Year's Eve."

"What about the Connelly case?"

"Detective, if I remember correctly, you said that by Friday that case will no longer be yours."

Bobby sat there, looking at his boss, as that hit him all over again. She was right, by Friday it would no longer be his case, or Logan's, it would belong to Eames and her new partner…Copeland.

"That's all," she said, dismissing them.

Bobby got up and followed Logan silently out of the office, before he passed through the doorway, he heard her say behind him.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Bobby stopped and turned to face her.

"I am aware of your reputation for insubordinate conduct, I'm also aware that Captain Deakins let most of it slide because of your record. Now, all you have to be aware of is this: if you try to disobey my orders again, detective, I'm certain I can find an opening for you on Harbor Patrol."

Not taking that threat lightly, Bobby gave a short nod before he joined Logan at their desks. At catching the look from Logan, he pointed a finger at him while telling him, "Not now," before he walked over to Detective Sullivan's vacant desk.

Opening the drawers, he took out the case files and started going through them. Some of the files were cold cases that Sullivan was still hoping to solve from over the years. Finding the eighteen from the past year, he gathered them up and took them to his desk.

"I think we should start with the most recent, I doubt will have any luck with any of the older ones."

Bobby handed half the files to Logan as he opened up the top file on his pile. It was a case from nine months ago. A young woman, Candice 'Candi' Burbank, was murdered, cause of death was strangulation. The occupation of the woman was prostitution; no suspects.

He tossed the file down and rubbed his head. There had barely been any notes in that file, that meant that Detective Sullivan did a half-ass investigation before dropping it. Picking up the next file, he flipped it open and began reading. This one was a hit-and-run case from three weeks ago. The victim was a fourteen year old boy from the rougher side of the island. There were no witnesses to the crime, and no suspects were ever found. Bobby realized that he recognized the case from seeing the news reports on it; he had wondered who caught the case and now he knew.

Sitting that file aside, he knew that he would be calling the CSU's who worked that crime scene soon enough. That boy and his family deserved an answer. Taking another file, he heard Logan grunt as he tossed a file into the 'no' pile. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, just that I'm beginning to think that Sullivan knew he was throwing in the towel a long time ago. With this woman's murder, he didn't even follow up on the evidence recovered at the scene. He marked it as 'unreliable' and moved on."

"Who was the victim?"

"Abigail Hudson, she was a prostitute."

Bobby stopped reading the file in his hands and looked at Logan, and then to the file he had tossed down. He immediately picked up the file and looked at the cause of death. It was the same as Candice Burbank. Abigail Hudson was strangled to death. It occurred five months ago.

Logan glanced at him with concern as he asked, "What? Is it familiar to you?"

Bobby rubbed at his head as he kept reading the file. "No, not…" he trailed off as he picked up the phone.

After two rings, Eddie Kerr picked up, "Staten Island County Coroner's Office, Chief Medical Examiner Kerr speaking."

"Yeah, Ed, this is Goren."

"Ah, what can I do for you today, detective?"

"I have a question for you. Yesterday, you said you had-had a, uh, a dead prostitute, can you tell me how she died?"

"It's not your case," he simply told him.

"I know but--"

"Goren, if you have questions about it, just ask Travis. It's his case."

The line went dead and he slammed the phone down.

"Did the old grouch tell you to piss off or something?"

"No," Bobby said as he stood and looked around for Detective Nat Travis. "He wouldn't answer my question."

"Hum," Logan mused as he picked up another file. "The eighth deadly sin. What was he thinking?"

Bobby spotted Travis coming around the corner talking to one of the woman civilian staff members. He went toward him before he stopped and suddenly asked, "If my suspension is right…and, I'm sure it is, are you up for a serial case?"

Logan looked up from the file he was reading. "It's amazing, you know it."

"Uh, what's amazing?"

Logan smiled slyly as he shook his head, "You always seem to attract psycho-killers."

Bobby stared at him for a moment before declaring, "I didn't attract this guy, I found his victims because I'm dedicated to my job."

"Obsessive is more like it."

"I don't see you going home any earlier than I am."

Logan leaned back in the chair and tossed the file down. "Yeah, but when I go home, I go home. Where do you go?"

Bobby stiffened and he wasn't sure why he was suddenly getting defensive. He was losing track of where the conversation was even going and why. With getting into a sparring match with Logan, he completely forgot about talking to Detective Travis. Turning around, he saw the that the detective was still talking to the woman as they stood near the copy machine. Addressing Logan, he asked once more, "So, are you up for it?"

Logan eyed him before smiling, but it didn't reach his green eyes. "Sure, why not. Let's go out and catch Jack the Ripper."

"Jack the Ripper cut the women's throats…then he strangled them," Bobby corrected him before he walked over to talk to Travis.

It didn't take long before the detective confirmed his suspension. The woman, Nancy Young, was strangled to death. She died two days ago.

"When one case ends," Bobby said as he sat back down at his desk with the new case file in his hands, "a new one begins."

"The life of a cop."

TBC…


	4. It's a scary place

A/N: Thanks for the reviews so far! I really appreciate it!

* * *

Thursday; it was the last day that he and Alex would be working together before she got her new, permanent, partner. Bobby still couldn't get his mind to accept the drastic changes that had transpired in just 48 hours. Being able to work with Alex again, even though it was hard on both of them, had excited him. Now, just as quickly as she came back into his life, she was leaving it again.

He turned off the warm water and reached out for the towel hanging on the hook. After patting himself dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. It was four in the morning and the locker room was still void of life besides his own. It usually worked that way. Everyone had gone home, or gone somewhere other than staying at the department, while he stayed and worked.

His house was too empty and quiet for his mood. If he had gone home he would have ended up drinking and walking the floor. He would have worn himself down and dulled his mind barely enough to fall asleep on the couch. And he didn't want that. He wanted to work. So he had stayed and done just that. Logan had clocked out around ten and said something about not seeing his girlfriend in a few days. He had only nodded as he taped the photos of the dead woman around an empty interrogation room.

They didn't have a lot of space to work with like he had at Major Case. And there were no separate rooms for interviews or confereneces. All they had were two interrogation rooms and the open department floor where their desks were. For having only sixteen homicide detectives in that department, he figured it was good enough.

Bobby took his time dressing as he thought about what he had learned from his night of investigation. He had found more files that had the same MO as the other murders. Most detectivs just looked at the evidence, concluded that there was nothing they could do, and then went on with the next case. There were some women who haven't even been identifyied. Jane Doe's to the system as well as to the detectives who caught the case. It infuriated him that his fellow detectives had a complete lack of concern with getting justice for these women. None of them asked or wanted to be killed despite their profession, or the situation they found themselves in.

All together he had found ten victims. _Ten_. That was inexcusable.

Bobby was pulling on his shoes when he heard the locker door open and close. Turning his head, he leaned over to see around the edge of the lockers and spotted a couple of detectives coming in with backpacks over their shoulders. They were both dressed in shorts and t-shirts, most likely they had just gotten done working out in the gym that was next door to the department.

One of the detectives, Jackson, spotted him and with an awkward smile asked, "What's up, Goren? You getting in or leaving?"

Bobby shrugged a little as he put on his other shoe and stood. Picking up his towel off the bench, he told him, "Leaving."

"You up for a game tonight? It's in the city, at the NYC Gym."

"I don't know, we'll see." Bobby used the towel to wipe the remaining water off the back of his head and neck as he shut the door and snapped on the lock.

Jackson watched him for a moment before telling him, "We're playing some guys from your old squad. So far, I've got three guys. Travis, Mitchem, and Rivers here," he pointed to the other detective who was getting reaady for a quick shower. "We could use you, and that friend of yours. Stabler?"

Bobby nodded at Jackson remembering Elliot's name. He and Stabler had met up a few times when he was on the island investigating a case. They would grab a lunch or dinner together, sometimes with Benson but most of the time it was just the two of them. Then if Elliot was still there after working hours, they would get in a couple games of one-on-one at the gym. Logan would sometimes show up and invite them out for a drink afterwards. Logan liked watching sports, he just wasn't all into playing them anymore.

Giving it some thought, Bobby nodded a little. "Yeah, okay;. I'll talk to Stabler and see if he's up for it."

"Great," Jackson's smile was a little more normal now, like he had finally felt comfortable with being near him. "Be there at seven if you can."

After Jackson walked away, Bobby hesitated as he was suddenly regretting his decision. Oh well, he shrugged it off. He could use the workout that a good, friendly game of basketball could give him. The only thing he was truly concerned about was hurting his knee, but that was a constant concern with his job and he never did let the pain interfere with it.

His phone vibrated in his pocket as he headed down the hallway toward the doors. Taking it out, he saw Logan's name and flipped it open. "Goren."

"Hey buddy, you at work still?"

"I'm actually on my way out. I need breakfast and the food in the cafeteria here isn't nearly as good as the food at One Police Plaza."

Logan laughed before telling him, "The ferry is docking now; wanna meet up somewhere. You can fill me in on what you learned."

"How about I check out the car and pick you up instead?"

There was silence on the line before he told him, "Okay."

Nearly twenty minutes later he was picking Logan up. "Wanna drive?" he asked as Logan opened the door on the passenger side.

"As long as you can stay on the road and out of a ditch, drive," Logan told him after he slid in and quickly put on his seatbelt.

Bobby pulled away from the sidewalk and started driving as the clouds parted, letting in the sunshine.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Logan asked after a couple minutes of silence.

Shaking his head, he kept his eyes on the road while answering, "I was too busy to sleep."

"So, fill me in."

Bobby glanced over at him. "Can you wait until I stop driving and get at least two cups of coffee in my body first?"

Logan said just as seriously, "No."

Even with his protests and nagging, Bobby made him wait until they were sitting at the counter in a diner not too far from the department before he told him what he had learned. Sipping on his third cup of coffee, he leaned on the counter and turned his head to be looking at Logan. "There's ten of them so far."

"Jeez," Logan said shaking his head. "Have all been identified?"

"No, there're three Jane Doe's."

"What about the investigations?"

Bobby again shook his head. "No one cared enough. The evidence sat while the cases went cold, then they stuck the files in the back of the drawers and ignored them."

"Top-notch police work," Logan said dryly before taking a big gulp of the coffee. Looking at the cup, he said more sarcasticly, "This isn't nearly as good as what you make."

Bobby couldn't help but huff out a laugh as he rubbed at his tired eyes and face. "There isn't a lot of evidence." Covering his mouth, he sighed deeply before telling him, "I don't know if we're going to be able to solve these."

"What? At all or in time for the deadline?"

He closed his eyes as he felt the aria of defeat engulf him. "Both."

"We've barely got started and you're already calling the game? That's not like you. What's this about?"

"I just don't think we're going to get far with this." Bobby turned in his seat so he could face Logan. "I've studied the files all night, looked at the evidence found at the scenes…" he trailed off as he shook his head. "It's all slim at best. There's nothing. No DNA, nothing that points to a suspect or where to even start. And as, honorable, as our intentions are to find the guy for these women…Mike, it doesn't look likely."

Logan had listened to him and he saw the concern and the doubt that played across his face. He sat his coffee cup down as he asked, "Is this what you really want to do? Give up before we've even started, because the Bobby Goren I've known for the last month and a half has never given up so quickly."

Bobby stared at Logan as he felt his defenses rise once again. He wasn't giving up, or trying too. He didn't even want to abandon the case, but for some reason he wasn't feeling the excitement he had the day before. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically and maybe it was just his fatigue talking. Shaking his head, he tried to regain some of his credit by telling Logan, "Okay, we'll follow them up as best we can. I think we should focus on the ones that are more recent. I was going to check out that hit-and-run also."

"You're taking on this and the hit-and-run?" Logan asked, a little surprised. "The victim was fourteen, right?"

Bobby gave a nod as he turned back around and refilled his cup with more hot coffee. He was feeling sluggish and drained, not at all like he was ready to tackle a full day of police work.

"Do you want us to split up? If we do that, we'll be able to hopefully solve more cases by the end of the year."

Bobby was surprised at hearing that coming from Logan. "If…uh, if that's what you want to do."

"I'm not saying it's what I want to do, I'm saying maybe that's what we should do. We'll both work the serial case, but take on another case as well. You with the hit-and-run, and I was feeling pretty good about that stabbing at the Rockaway Club last week."

Bobby didn't know what he was feeling at Logan's suggestion, but suddenly being replaced offically tomorrow as Eames's partner, and now Logan asking for them to work alone, it was twisting a familiar sense of guilt and indifference within him. "Like I said, what you want, we'll do."

Logan didn't responsed right away as they both finished their coffees and ate their food. It wasn't until they were heading out to the car when he spoke. "What're you doing later?"

"You mean tonight?"

Logan answered, "When else?" as he opened the driver's side door after Bobby handed the keys off to him.

"I might be playing basketball. Why?" Bobby asked as he slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. Having Logan ask him about this evening had reminded him to give Elliot a call.

Logan started the car and immediately cranked the heat up in the car. "Hitting a bar afterwards?"

Bobby looked away from dialing Elliot's number as he eyed Logan. He was amazed that Logan still wanted to drink with him after what happened a few nights ago. "Not afraid I'll have another lapse in sanity?"

"No, I'm always afraid of that. I've learned to live with it."

Bobby smirked as he said, "If I'm still able to move afterwards…why not."

* * *

Like he suspected, there wasn't much to start with the prostitution serial murder case. The newest victim had been murdered four days ago, having been too long between discovery of the body and the start of their investigation the evidence was inconclusive or tainted by the snow that had fallen. They would have to wait for another victim before they could actually do something productive; Bobby hated that knowledge the most. Someone else had to die before they could gain any ground in the investigation.

What he could do was warn the woman working the streets and inform the patrols about a possible serial murderer/stalker of these women. Bobby had made sure that every watch sergeant informed the patrols coming and going throughout the day and night to be extra vigilant and report anything or one usual. An officer had been standing at the desk when he had informed Macy of his suspicions and the officer actually laughed at him, telling him that it was a lost cause and that no one was going to take it seriously.

Bobby had wanted to rip into the officer but realized that maybe he was right, and getting into it with the officer was only going to cause more bitterness and resentment than what he was experiencing already. He had dropped it but hoped that not all the patrols felt the same as that one officer did. He could only hope. That seemed to be all he was doing lately: hoping.

Hoping for forgiveness, for redemption, for acceptance, for his job, his sanity, and most of all, for Alex.

Logan had taken the car to the club where a forty-eight year old man had been brutally stabbed to death last week while he stayed at the department. Taking the steps down to the M.E.'s office, Bobby flipped through the photos of the fourteen year old boy whose life had ended way too soon. It seemed like at the age of fourteen was when life really started to get fun. The youth and innocence of being a kid was ending as the experimentation and inhibitions of teenage curiosity was taking over. Love was more than just of sports and cars but of girls, or boys. Life started to become more complicated but the excitement of it all made it worthwhile, even the heartbreaks.

Staring at the young boy in the autopsy photo, he felt a twisting of pain and sorrow in his gut. He wondered if the boy got to ever experience the pleasure of a first kiss before his life was tragically taken away.

"Everything okay?"

Bobby jumped at the voice. Snapping his eyes away from the picture, he realized it was Brenda, Kerr's assistant, and she was watching him with concern. "Yeah…" he cleared his throat a little before saying, "Everything's fine."

Brenda came up to him and took the photo from his hand. "Terrence Hughes. Such a shame."

"You conducted his autopsy?"

She gave him a shy smile as she told him, "Of course. Kerr, as good as he is, gets weird with the younger victims."

"Uh, weird how?"

She shrugged as she started up the steps he had been coming down. "He says he doesn't like cutting them open anymore. I tease him about getting too old to do the work."

Bobby smiled a little at the thought of her teasing that old man. "I bet he doesn't like that."

Laughing a little, Brenda told him, "He hates it." Her openness eased as she looked down at the floor before telling him more seriously, "If you want to know more about the autopsy--"

"Can you talk about it now?" Bobby quickly asked.

She looked hesitant before saying, "Sure. I was actually on my way to get some lunch. If you wanna join me…?"

She left it open for him to decline or accept her lunch offer. Bobby didn't hesitant in his answer as he started climbing the steps next to her. Looking at his watch, he realized that it was already one. "Where're you going?"

"The _Sandwich Shop _a few blocks down."

It had been a long time since he had a meal strictly with a woman and he was starting to feel the familiar awkwardness as he sat in the booth across from Brenda nearly fifteen minutes later. They had decided to walk to the little diner that was famous around Staten Island for having the best sandwiches, hence the name of the place.

"Are you getting used to it here?" Brenda asked as she picked up her menu and looked it over.

Bobby already knew what he wanted so he didn't bother touching his menu, expect only to fidget with the sides of it as he answered, "Not really. I like the city."

"You do remember how freezing cold the city is walking around, right? All that wind slicing around the buildings and streets."

Bobby nodded as he smiled, "It's a slight negative aspect of an overall great city."

"I don't call minus twenty degree winds blowing into my face a slight negative aspect."

Bobby couldn't help but laugh as he leaned back in booth. Some of his unease was fading as he got comfortable being around the woman. He hadn't spent much time with Brenda since coming to Staten Island; he had worked with Kerr a number of times before with Major Case, he and the old man were used to one another. Brenda, much like himself, was new to the island; she lived in Jersey until four months ago. That was one of the many things she had told him during their walk.

He flipped open his binder and pulled out the file on Terrence Hughes. Taking out the photos, he asked, "I, uh, I actually have only a few questions," he began telling her as he leaned over the booth to show her the photo.

Brenda sat the menu down so she could fully look at the photo he was showing her.

"This, here," he pointed to an indentation that was on the boy's lower back.

"That was where the car impacted him."

"And this?" he asked, pointing to a what looked to be a symbol.

She studied it closely then looked at him. "How'd you see that?"

Bobby shook his head, "Doesn't matter…It's a symbol, isn't it?"

"Looks like it. It's hard to tell with the bruising."

"But it could be from the license plate." Bobby sat back down in the booth as he asked, "How tall was Terrance?"

"He was about six foot. Looked like a basketball player, or track runner."

"How so?"

"Long arms and legs," she told him as the waiter came up to them. Brenda placed her order of a turkey sandwich with a salad and tea.

Bobby ordered the spicy Italian club, salad, and a coffee. "So," he started back up once the waiter was gone. "If he was struck by a car, it would have clipped him in the legs, not his lower back. It had to be something much more higher off the ground, like a truck."

Brenda looked surprised and impressed. "Huh, I hadn't thought about it, but, I only really think about performing my job and not the particulars of the crime."

"Well, sometimes thinking about how the crime was committed might help with knowing what to look for when you perform the autopsy."

Brenda eyed him for a moment before asking bluntly and with a hint of anger, "Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?"

Bobby realized how that sounded and immediately apologized. "Sorry, uh, no…I wasn't…I was just saying that it-it uh, might help with, with um…" God, he was dying and dying fast. As he searched for what to say to the woman, he saw a slight teasing grin on her face.

Brenda began chuckling as she shook her head at him. "Forget it, Goren. I was only messing with you. You're right, I still have a lot to learn about this job. Next time, I'll do that and see how it goes."

Even though Brenda was talking like a woman fresh out of college, she wasn't young. One of the other things Brenda had told him during their walk was that she used to be a Biology teacher at a high school in Jersey. She hadn't gone into detail about what changed her career path, but at the age of thirty she had quit and went back to school to be a Medical Examiner. Four years later, she landed the job on Staten Island working for Eddie Kerr.

"What do you remember about the autopsy?"

"All my notes are in the file," she told him as she accept her salad that was placed in front of her.

Bobby continued to watch her as his own salad was sat down and his coffee was refilled. "What's not in the file?"

Brenda looked up at him as she poured ranch dressing over the salad. "What are you really trying to ask me?"

Bobby looked down at his food, trying to ease the sense that he was interrogating her. "Sorry," he apologized again. "I'm used to questioning suspects. Um, what I was asking was, uh…Do you remember anything else like…How was Sullivan acting? Did he even bother to show up?"

"No, he was there. In fact, he was standoffish, which is unusual for him."

"How so?"

"Well, he's nothing like you, but he's not just one to just stand and watch either," she told him with a hint of teasing in her voice.

Bobby found that he liked hearing it before he pushed that feeling away and scolded himself for letting himself feel that way toward her. The awkwardness was pushing it's way back in. He shifted in the booth as he tried to regain some sense of comfort but he highly doubted that anything would help, not until she was no longer near him.

Brenda didn't ease the teasing tone as she continued, oblivious to his discomfort. "He would get up close to the body, turn it to see something clearer or more closely. He doesn't attempt to actually touch or remove evidence himself," she gave him a pointed look before saying, "but he always tried to gather as much evidence and information as possible."

"And he didn't do that?"

She shook her head. "I remember wondering if something was wrong with him, like maybe if he was sick that day or if it was the fact that it was such a young boy. Whatever it was, he stood near the door the whole time, watching. He barely even looked at the kid."

Bobby thought about that as he finished off this side and drank another cup of coffee before his sandwich was brought to him. He was about to take a bite out of the Italian club when he heard a noise coming across the table. Looking up, he watched as Brenda closed her eyes as she took another bite of hers.

"Hmmm," she hummed again. "This is so good."

Bobby felt a shiver run down his spine at the noises she was making and immediately hated himself for it. He really needed to get as far away from that woman as possible. A couple of minutes later, his cell phone vibrated. He quickly swallowed the food down his throat and took a big gulp of coffee before he flipped it open. "Goren."

"I need someone to come with me, preferably you."

It was Alex. Bobby barely took the time to thank Brenda for lunch as he tossed some money on the table and headed out. "Where?"

"I have a meeting with the Connelly's accountant. Harlan got back with me about those tax papers and it looks like they forgot to report about half their fortune to the IRS."

"Tax evasion."

"There's that, but there's also something kinky going on with the money."

Bobby felt his lips twist up at the word 'kinky' and the way she said it. "Oh, how's that?" The walk back to the department was not fast enough for him.

"Like the fact it doubled overnight. One day it was in his bank account, then it disappeared, and then it came back twice as much as what it was to start with. It was exactly the beginning amount doubled to the very last cent."

"It could be money laundering. Any word yet on the money I got from the casino?" Bobby asked as he jogged across the empty street and up the steps to the department.

"Nothing yet. That's going to take a while, maybe even months."

"I've got a friend, she's with the FBI, and she develop this program specifically for money tracking. If a bill is hot, she'll know about it in hours. I already called her but it went to voicemail, I'm just waiting on a call back. I'm hoping I can get the program from her to use, or, if she can run it for me, but that'll involve me figuring out a way to get the serial numbers of all those bills to her without actually giving her the money."

"You can always scan them and send them to her."

Bobby shook his head at that. "Yeah, I can just see me scanning over a few thousand dollars and then faxing them. That'll take days."

Alex actually laughed at him. "You need to embrace the world of technology, Goren. We can scan the images on the computer and just send them directly to her computer. It'll take only a few hours."

Bobby stopped at his desk to grab his gun which was locked in the bottom drawer. "Oh. Well, when she calls me, I'll suggest it. So, where do you want to meet?"

"At the office of Lionel Green. I'm halfway across the bridge now, give me about twenty minutes and I'll be there."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he looked around the room at the other detectives. "Uh, I'm gonna need a ride. Logan's off on another case and he drove."

Alex was silent for a moment before saying, "I'll pick you up on the way."

* * *

Lionel Green's office was located in a newly renovated office space above a mom and pop bakery in the center of town. The smell of freshly baking bread was overwhelming as it consumed the entire building and about two city blocks. Bobby took a seat in front of the desk next to Alex as he took in the office. There were a couple of degrees on the walls, picture frames on the desk and bookcase behind it, nothing out of the ordinary.

"Is this about Mr. Connelly?" Green asked as soon as they had sat down.

"Was he your client?" Alex asked instead of answering the question.

"For over ten years, and since you're here I'm sure you know that."

Bobby glanced over at Green having heard the irritation in the man's voice. "Then you also know the other reason why we're here, correct?"

Green looked away from Alex to stare at him. "Actually, I don't."

"Come on, Mr. Green, of course you do. We know that he's been your client for over ten years so that also mean that we know that his…uh, books, are off."

"His books?"

"Yeah, you know, his _books_. His accounting books."

Green had shifted back in his seat and was turning a little red as he stared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was in change of all his finances and I can assure you--"

"Then you can assure me of the reason why he cheated on his taxes, how he was doubling his money overnight…" Bobby trailed off as he gauged Green's reaction.

Green looked lost and confused as he reached for the top drawer to his desk. "Mr. Connelly wasn't cheating his taxes," he said sternly as he pulled out a thick file and opened it. "Here, this is a copy of his last Federal return; everything is accounted for."

Bobby took the sheets and looked them over. Mr. Green was right, everything was accounted for. Alex handed him the file she had brought and he compared both; they were different. "Uh…" he handed the files over to Alex so she could verify what he had seen then addressed Mr. Green. "It seems that your client was running one by you."

Alex handed both the files to Green as she told him, "Is there anyone else that he would have gone to? Another accountant? An assistant of yours?"

Green shook his head. "No, he always came to me. I don't…Why would he do this?"

"So if he was ever investigated, we would come here and see that it's all legit and not think twice about it," Alex told him.

"Those files, they were in his house…" Bobby looked over at Alex before he stood. "Could you excuse us, we'll be right back." He motioned for Alex to follow him out of the office. Once the door was shut, he turned and asked, "Was it verified that the papers I found were what he actually sent to the IRS?"

"Why wouldn't they be?"

Bobby rubbed at his head as he felt the anger rush through him. If he had been there, at Major Case with Alex then he would have thought of it before instead of right in the middle of his questioning. He felt blind sided, and he hated that feeling because that only came from inadequate police work. "I'm not sure, but before we continue it has to be verified. Just because he had those papers doesn't mean that he was actually defrauding the government."

"Then why change them and then keep a copy for his personal records if they weren't real?"

"I don't know, Eames, it could be for a number of reasons, but the only thing I'm concerned with at the moment is whether or not those were what he sent."

Alex had pulled out her phone during his tantrum and sighed heavily in annoyance. "I can do without the attitude, Goren."

Bobby eyed her and wondered where the irritation was coming from before shaking it off. It was coming from working with him, he told himself as he opened the door and went back into the office.

He was feeling dead on his feet as he once again got into the passenger seat of the SUV and snapped on the seatbelt. As it turned out, Greg Connelly wasn't cheating on his taxes. That knowledge was confusing him even more. Why would he redo the tax papers with false information and keep them with his records. And it still didn't explain why his money would suddenly double overnight with no apparent reason. The money would one day be in there, then gone, and then suddenly reappear with twice as much.

"I think that if you try to think about this case too much your brain will cave in on itself."

Bobby glanced over at Alex and smiled a little. She was right, he was already getting a headache from thinking about all the possibilities. However, there was one thing he was feeling certain about even though he didn't know how to prove it yet. "He was defrauding someone," he told her. "There's no other explanation. He was keeping them as proof to show someone else, maybe a business partner?"

"Or the man who killed him and his wife."

"It's funny though, you know, being killed over not committing a crime." Bobby took a second to think about that before something clicked. "Unless, that was what he was getting paid to do. What if it wasn't his money?"

"He became an millionaire using someone else's hard earned cash?"

"What I mean is, half of the money was his, the other half wasn't…The dirty half. He was getting paid to launder someone else's money through his own bank account. The phony tax documents were not of his money but of the guy that is defrauding the government."

Alex stopped at a light and looked over at him. "You're confusing me, Bobby."

"At least I'm not the only one confused," Bobby mumbled under his breath as he rubbed at his head. He needed sleep, and some more coffee. "But, I could be right."

"A lot of things at this point could be right, I'm not ruling anything out. We're back to square one anyways, and tomorrow it won't matter what you think because you'll be off the case. I swear, this whole thing with you and Copeland is pissing me off."

Bobby stiffened at that as he stared out the windshield. She was right, come tomorrow all this headache over the Connelly murders would be over for him because he would no longer be on it. And after today, Alex would have no reason to call him or see him ever again if she wanted it that way. "Is that because you still don't know what it is you want?"

That bitter question had slipped out and he was nearly cursed as he felt the SUV jerk to a sudden stop in front of the department. Bobby held his body still and his eyes glued to the dashboard as he felt her eyes on him.

"I can't believe you just asked that."

Bobby gathered enough willpower to turn his head to look at her. The hurt he saw there would've killed him if he wasn't hiding behind his stubbornness. He wished he could tell her that he didn't mean it that way or that he was sorry, but neither of those things would help to ease the pain in her eyes even though they were the truth. He really didn't mean it that way, not the way she took it. It was meant to be directed toward their partnership and not anything more intimately personal than that. "Alex, I didn't mean it…I was just asking --"

"Goren, right now, I don't care much about your intentions or what you meant. What I want is for you to get out so I can go."

She was barely containing her anger and it infuriated him that he was the one who had made her that mad. Bobby only nodded as he swung open the door and got out. As soon as he shut it, she pulled away from the curb and drove off.

Bobby groaned and closed his eyes._ Idiot. _

* * *

The ball rolled around the hoop twice before falling off, away from the net.

"Son-of-a-bitch," Bobby groaned. "That's the third time."

Elliot caught the ball and laughed as he tossed it back to him. "I guess today isn't your day, Bobby. First Alex, and now you can't shoot for shit."

Bobby caught the ball and bounced it a few times before taking another shot at the basket. It hit the rim only to bounce over the hoop and into the awaiting hands of Elliot who was standing below the basket.

"You're oh for five. Stop thinking and get it in the damn basket," Elliot told him as he tossed the ball back to him once again.

Bobby caught the ball and took a moment to wipe the sweat off his hands before dribbling the ball around the three point line as he changed positions; getting to the corner, he took another shot, this time it went in.

"Nothing but net!" Elliot exclaimed as he caught the ball. "Was that so hard?" he asked as he tossed the ball back to him.

Bobby eyed him as he caught the ball. "Do you think Alex will ever forgive me?"

Elliot shrugged as he waited for him to play. "I don't know."

"Would you forgive me?"

"After what you said today, no."

Bobby threw the ball at him and Elliot caught it laughing. "I didn't even mean it the way she took it."

"I still can't believe you said that." Elliot started dribbling the ball, heading to the free throw line. "Did you apologize?"

"It wouldn't have done any good."

Elliot shook his head at him before eyeing the basket. "That's inexperience talking. Take it from me, apologize."

Bobby positioned himself under the hoop as he told him, "She told me that if I said I was sorry one more time she'd hit me."

Elliot had started to throw the ball as he said that; he couldn't stop the jerk in his arms and the ball hit the backboard and fell to the floor. "When did she tell you that?"

"A few days ago."

Elliot watched as he grabbed the ball and threw it back to him. Catching it, he asked, "Why is she so angry with you anyway? I thought everything was fine."

"I think she wasn't over the fact that I cornered her in the woman's restroom."

Elliot really looked stunned at that. "Backup, Bobby, you lost me. Why were in the woman's restroom?"

Bobby ran a hand through his damp hair as he thought of what to tell him. He had been wrong and it had been totally inappropriate for him to do that. "It was when we found out that she was getting a new partner. She was angry about it and stalked off. I followed."

"And you two got into it in the restroom," Elliot finished for him as he eyed the basket. "Still, even if she says she doesn't want an apology or that she'll beat you to death if you tell to give her one, apologize." He took another shot at the basket; the ball hit the backboard before dropping into the basket.

"Nice shot."

Bobby looked around Elliot as he turned around. Jackson was walking in with Travis and Rivers trailing behind.

"Mitchem couldn't make it; he's on a stakeout," Jackson told him as he walked up to greet them.

Bobby looked around at the other men as he said, "All we need is five anyway."

"Yeah, but it would've been nice to have the option to switch out."

"Please, the only time the guys from Major Case were remotely a worthy component was when Bobby played for them," Elliot announced as he tossed the ball to him. "Now, you got him."

"And you can keep him!"

At that, they all turned and watched as the detectives from Major Case filed into the gym. Bobby recognized all of them but one.

Anderson had been the one to shout that and he was smiling at him as he came over and shook his hand. "Just kidding, Goren. We actually miss you."

"Yeah," Matthews agreed as he came up next to him. "Now with you gone, Anderson has to actually do some research instead of just asking you."

Bobby smiled as the men laughed, but his mind or eyes wasn't one any of them. Across the gym, taking off his hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants, was Harry Copeland. Copeland was tall, about six-two, athletic build, dark skin and eyes, and he was young. He wasn't too young to not be a experienced cop, but that didn't ease his feeling that this guy wasn't good enough to be partnered with Alex.

Anderson followed his eyes. "That's Copeland."

Bobby nodded. "I know." Turning to catch Anderson's eyes, he reassured him, "It's fine."

"You sure?"

Bobby smiled slightly as he nodded. "Yeah."

It looked like Anderson didn't believe him but he didn't say anything else about it.

* * *

"He's confused," Olivia told her as she tossed her a towel.

Alex caught the towel and wiped the sweat off her face and neck. "I've seen Bobby confused, this isn't it. He's…" she trialed off as she tried to figure out what he was. She couldn't do it. "I have no idea actually. I've never seen him like this before, ever. He's so angry and…"

"Sexually frustrated."

Alex eyed Olivia and rolled her eyes. "It's not that either."

"Are you sure? I've found that whenever a man I was involved with was snapping at every little thing it was either because they were assholes or because I hadn't slept with them in a week."

Alex downed half the water bottle before saying, "I give you that; he has to be a little sexually frustrated, it has been months."

"It could be jealousy."

Alex started to walk beside Olivia as the headed toward the locker room. "I don't know, I've never seen him jealous."

Olivia stopped as she told her, "Maybe this is it. He did say that only after you brought up your new partner."

"Yeah, but he didn't mean it that way, and I know he didn't. I was just angry myself over the whole thing and then he said that and…" she breathed out. "I think we're both just scared. I know I am. I don't want to lose him but at the same time I don't know how to be with him. Sometimes I can be open and not hide my feelings, but other times it's like I have to ignore what I feel just to be around him without wanting to shoot him."

Olivia was watching her closely before lowering her voice and telling her, "I know that it's not true, but some of the things you tell me about your relationship with Bobby, it reminds me of what woman say who are in abusive relationships."

"He's not--"

Olivia quickly raised her hands and cut her off, "I know, that's why I said it's not true. It's the way that he comes off, and the way that he makes you feel around him, unintentionally of course." She eyed her seriously before telling her, "It's the way some victims of abuse react. They unintentionally present the same feel that they were subjected to. Sometimes it's to protect themselves, other times it's to make themselves feel more comfortable. I mean, can you image what it must be like for your whole life your level of familiarization and comfort came from a chaotic and abusive world?"

"So, for Bobby, chaos is familiar and even comforting, while calmness isn't?"

"Exactly. I'm not saying that he doesn't need the calm, because he does, especially with you. But, he also needs the chaos, if not…It can be scarier than the emptiness of it."

"Well, he gets enough chaos from the job and his mother combined. Why does he need it from me too?"

Olivia actually laughed at that. "It's not that he wants the chaos from you, he doesn't."

"Then what is it because I'm at a lose. He says he wants me, but he pushes me away when it gets tough. He can't tell me that he loves me even though I know he does. He gets angry with me for even bringing up his family and asking about his past. He says he doesn't want to be judged yet he can't seem to stop doing things that make me want to judge him." Alex stopped her ranting as she looked at her friend. "Am I demanding too much of him?"

Olivia shook her head as she told her, "You're asking the wrong person. Have you asked him any of these things?"

"That's just it, I've tried and all I get is a question in return or he avoids it, or he leaves the room. He's impossible, but I can't help but want to love him. I'm pathetic," she whined as they headed into the locker room.

"You're not pathetic," Olivia tried to tell her. "You're just hopelessly in love."

"What's the difference."

Olivia shrugged, "The sex."

"You mean the sex that we're not having."

"Why aren't you? You're still together and I'm sure you both could use it," Olivia told her as she unlocked the small gym locker.

"Bobby doesn't do mindless sex. He'll think that if we have sex than it means all is forgiven and we're back to normal."

"Then forgive him already."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

Alex sat down on the bench and shook her head. "I honestly don't know. I just know that every time he tries to force his way back into my life, I get mad at him for it. I keep telling him its on my terms, that I have to figure out what I feel and want, and he thinks he can control when and how I do it."

Olivia had sat down next to her as she was talking. Turning to her, she asked, "Do you seriously think he's trying to force his way back into your life?"

"He called me," she said holding up her cell phone, "every day since we separated. Some days, more than once."

"Can you blame him? Not only is he in love with you, but he's been with you every single day for four years. And you're the one that told me that he doesn't adapt well to change. This is a huge change for him. Maybe he just wanted to talk."

"Now you're sounding like Bobby. That's what he said; that he just wanted to talk and it doesn't have to be about us."

"Then why don't you answer the phone the next time he calls. Alex, this is your problem."

"Oh, brother, here we go," Alex sighed as she tossed the towel onto the empty spot beside her.

"The both of you are so used to looking out for your own selves, and guarding your feelings, that when you two got together you've been doing nothing by fighting each other. You two are at a constant war with one another because you've always been at war with your emotions. Alex, you haven't been able to love anyone since Joe, or wanting to love else. You had spent years leaving your personal feelings and emotions out of your job and hiding them from the men that you dated, that when you fell in love with Bobby it all became too much. When you hid your emotions from him, it felt like you weren't giving to the relationship, and when you dished them out, it felt overwhelming not only to yourself but to him as well since he hadn't experienced the full range of who you were until then."

"And Bobby did the same thing and I reacted the same way."

"Yes, exactly. When he let his emotions out, they overwhelmed you, scared you, because he always hides them all the time. You two fell in love with one another without fully knowing who you were falling in love with, and now that you know, it's freaking you both out."

Alex took that into consideration as she grabbed her clothes and headed for the showers. "Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe me and Bobby did fall in love too quickly for our own damn good. Maybe I didn't fully know him or understand him before I did, but that's not going to change how I feel."

"I didn't say it was, I was only trying to bring some things to light."

Thirty minutes later, Alex pulled her purse over her shoulder and shut the locker door. Olivia was waiting for her having finished getting changed before her and met her near the door out of the locker room. They started across the gym, going to the entrance, when they heard a familiar voice coming from behind a partly closed door that led to the basketball court.

"Elliot's here?"

"Oh, yeah, he said something about playing a game with the guys from your squad."

"Really? Wanna drop in on it, see who's winning?"

Olivia shrugged as she followed her. "Sure, but since Bobby is no longer with Major Case, I can guess who's losing."

Alex smiled at that as she opened the door. "He is a pretty good player." As soon as she got done saying that, she looked over and stopped in her tracks.

Olivia walked into the back of her, sending them both stumbling forward. "Alex, what…? It that Bobby?"

Alex crossed her arms over her chest and watched as he Elliot pushed the two men who were shoving each other apart. One of the men was a tall African-American that she had never seen before, the other was Bobby.

"Hey," Elliot yelled again, but it wasn't at Bobby. "Knock it off. It was a foul and you know it."

"He was goal tending!" Copeland yelled.

"And you knocked him to the ground!" Elliot yelled right back.

"Hello, ladies."

Alex looked over at the sound of Logan's voice. "Hey, Logan. What's all this about?"

"It depends. Are you asking about the basketball game or the pissing contest?"

"Preferably the one that involves Bobby looking like he's about to pound that guy into the floor."

"That would be both," Logan told her as he leaned back against the wall. "It started out as a friendly game and turned into who could foul the other one the most without coming right out and hitting one another. And, before you ask, Bobby wasn't the one who started it. Copeland accidentally landed a pretty nasty elbow to Bobby's right eye during the first half. They were both lucky I wasn't here for that. I showed up during halftime."

Alex looked at him then at the man who had been shoving Bobby. "That's Copeland?"

"From what I've heard from the Major Case guys, he's actually a pretty good guy. What started this whole thing between him and Goren was that one of them, I think it was Matthews, let it slip that Bobby was feeling jealous and intimidated by Copeland. Then, one thing led to another and this started."

"So they started fighting over that? That's ridiculous."

"They're men," Olivia announced. "They always have to fight over something that's stupid."

"Well, it's not that they're fighting over that, it's that they're fighting over you. New partner feels he has to prove that he's man enough to watch your back. And Bobby, well, being both your boyfriend and ex-partner, he has to fight for you no matter what."

She heard some yelling and looked over in time to see both Bobby and Copeland going up for the rebound as the ball bounced off the rim.

They collided as Bobby grabbed the ball and came down with it. He quickly passed it to Elliot who dribbled it down the court as Bobby hurried toward the basket. Elliot tossed it to him and Bobby caught it before going right into a lay-up as the same time Copeland reached him and jumped up to block the ball. Copeland fell right into Bobby, sending them both tumbling to the floor as the ball hit the rim, bounced around it, and then dropped into the basket.

Both of the men on the floor pushed each other away and got up. Elliot was immediate by Bobby's side helping him up as he patted his back.

"That's game," Logan said with a wide grin. "Sorry, honey," he told Alex, "but Major Case lost. Your boyfriend killed them. Hey!" he yelled across the court. "Hurry up and shower! Drinks are on me!"

Bobby accepted a couple of handshakes and pats on the back from fellow detectives as he started toward the door. Alex noticed that he was slightly limping and she knew that his knee was killing him. Before he reached her, Copeland tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around.

Whatever was said between the two men it seemed to have settle the anger between them. Bobby shook his hand and was actually smiling a little.

As Copeland walked by her, he told Bobby over his shoulder, "See you later, Bobby," before he was out the door.

Alex leaned against the wall next to the door as Bobby came to a stop in front of her.

"How long have you been here?"

"I came in when you and Copeland were having a shoving match."

Bobby shrugged and smiled, "That wasn't…We weren't actually fighting, Alex."

"I know, Logan explained it to me. He said it was a pissing contest. Who won?"

Bobby straightened and stared down at her as he took that. "It wasn't that either, we were just…We were having fun."

"You were having fun pushing another man down?"

"It's the game…You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I just want to make sure that when I see Copeland tomorrow that we're going to be fine."

Bobby looked at her, trying to read her, before he nodded. "You'll be fine. There's nothing going on with me and Copeland. He'll be a good partner for you."

"Hey, Goren," Logan said as he came back into the gym. "You still up for drinks?"

Bobby glanced up at him then back down at Alex. "No, I think I'm just gonna go home." Walking by Logan, he said, "But thanks anyway."

Alex watched as he left and then looked at Logan. "How is he, really?"

Logan shrugged. "In pain, but then again, when isn't he?"

Alex followed Logan out of the gym and into the parking lot. She found Olivia standing outside talking to Elliot. Smiling at the other SVU detective, she asked, "Are we still hanging out or were you wanting to go have drinks?"

"I promised you a girls night out and I'm not changing that," Olivia told her as she stepped away from Elliot.

"And I'm actually going with Bobby," Elliot told her.

That surprised her even though it shouldn't have. Bobby and Elliot had become good friends since they worked together to find her two months ago. "Oh, okay, well…Then I have no reason to worry."

"You can always come, Alex," Elliot told her.

Alex shook her head. "Maybe some other time."

Elliot seemed to get that as he nodded. Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulder before heading for his truck. "He misses you, you know."

And she missed him too. Alex watched as he got into his truck and drove away.

"Maybe that's his problem," Olivia said as they started for Alex's car. "You're missing from his life. You're no longer there to ground him, to calm him, and to keep him from being…chaotic. It's a scary place."

"What is?"

"His life without you."

Alex didn't want to think about the fact that Olivia could be right. That knowledge scared her, but the more she thought about it that more she knew that Olivia was right. Bobby's life was in turmoil because she was no longer part of it.

TBC…


	5. A boy's best friend is his mother

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

The shadows on his ceiling felt consuming as they grew darker, spreading over the whole room, before the lights of a car turning the corner cast a light across it. As quickly as the light spread over the darkness, it would pass, leaving him staring back up at the black shadows. He would notice the changing of the darkness in the room whenever his mind would settle down enough to let him take in what was going on around him instead of what was going on inside it.

There were soft chattering, voices talking in the distant, but it wasn't from inside the house. He had turned off the television over an hour ago after Elliot had passed out in the recliner, leaving wide awake and alone to be staring at the images in the TV screen. When he had enough of just looking at it and not paying attention to what was actually being shown, he had turned it off.

An hour later and he was lying on his couch listening to memories in his head while he stared at his ceiling. The voices he heard were from many different people. His mother's voice was there, along with his father's and brother's, but mostly, they it was Alex's voice. It was always so vivid, even in his most disillusioned of states, she was so solid, and real.

He missed hearing that voice. His cell phone was on his chest, and he had placed it there when he was tempted again to give into his need to call her, but he didn't do it. Even after the three glasses of bourbon and coke he had with Elliot, he couldn't call her. She was still upset with him. And, he was still angry with her. If she actually answered his call, they would only get into a fight.

Slipping his right leg off the couch and planting it on the floor, he started to feel restless. That meant that the effects of the alcohol was wearing off. It still amazed him how he could actually feel so energized and ready to move even when he was so exhausted. There was no getting used to it, only dealing with it. He could either stay on the couch and fidget the whole time while bouncing his leg or moving it around as his mind continued to run in circles. Or, he could get up.

He got up and took his empty glass along with him. Going into the kitchen to refill his glass with straight bourbon, Bobby stopped short of the table and looked around. The house was looking pretty bad. Setting the glass down, he picked up the old newspapers and threw them away, then he grabbed the cleaner and rags out from under his sink and started wiping the counters. As he cleaned, his mind went back to what he had talked to Elliot about only a few hours earlier.

_"I should've told her," he stated softly as he leaned his head against the window and watched as they grew closer to his empty apartment._

_"Told her what?"_

_"How I feel."_

_There was a moment of silence as Elliot waited for him to continue, when he didn't, he asked, "What do you feel?"_

_Looking over at Elliot, he told him, "I love her."_

_Elliot slowed for the light a block away from the street he lived on and turned to look at him. "You're right, you should tell her."_

_"How?"_

_Elliot wrinkled his head in confusion at him before turning back to the road when a car behind them honked the horn at them. "What'd you mean how? You just say it, like you did now. Just replace the 'her' with a 'you'."_

_He turned back to be looking out the window as he felt the weight of the day press down on him. He was beyond exhausted for not having slept in nearly two days. "I've tried. Whenever I open my mouth to say it…I freeze up, and I can't."_

_"I know that it's not the words that trip you up."_

_Elliot was wrong. It was the words that he was afraid of, and the feelings they evoked. He knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn't help the way he felt, and thought. He used words to his advantage all the time. And he knew how words could be used, twisted, and manipulated to provoke emotion, both good and bad. Words hurt. The ones said and the unsaid. He was hurting Alex by not saying them, and she was killing him with saying them to him all the time._

_The truck pulled into the small drive way next to his apartment and went around to the back. Elliot parked next to his back steps and turned off the truck. _

_He glanced over at him as he sat up straighter and opened the door. "Wanna come up for a drink?"_

_"I was planning on it." _

_He hurried up the steps, opened the door and held it for Elliot as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. Unlocking his door, he motioned for Elliot to come inside before shutting the door. "What's your poison? I've got bourbon, scotch, and I think…" he opened his refrigerator before saying, "Nope, I'm out of beer." _

_"Then I'll have some bourbon. Got anything to mix it with?"_

_He took out a couple of cans of coke and placed them on the table._

_"Thanks for inviting me tonight. I missed playing with you," Elliot told him as he leaned against the counter and looked around. "You blew me off last time I tried hanging out with you."_

_"Sorry, man, I've been busy," he tried to explain as he pulled down the bottle of bourbon from the top shelf of the cabinet over the stove. He looked over at Elliot as Elliot kept looking around the house in silence. "What?"_

_Elliot turned back to him as he asked, "Have you even been home?" He picked up an old newspaper off the counter next to the phone. "This paper is two weeks old."_

_"Is it?" He rubbed at his head and glanced around the house himself. It was looking bad. He usually kept the place up, even when he worked doubles and triples. "I, uh, haven't been here much--"_

_"Since Alex left." Elliot was looking at him with a great deal of sympathy, or empathy, as he tossed the paper down and slowly walked over to the table. _

_He watched as Elliot skimmed a finger over the brim of his books he had piled on the kitchen table. He mixed bourbon and coke in two glasses before handing one to Elliot. "Um, Elliot, I…"_

_"Don't worry, Bobby. I'm not trying to pry. I'm just…concerned. You and Alex are my friends and I know how bad this separation thing can be."_

_As he glanced up at his friend, he smiled a little as they clicked their glasses together. Elliot was only making sure he was going to be okay, and letting him know that he empathized because he had been through it himself. During times like these, he was still surprised by the fact that they were friends, and good friends at that. _

_He took a long drink, refilled the glass, and then ventured into his living room. His pillow and blanket were still on the couch and he kept them there as he moved them over to one side and sat down. _

_Elliot took his recliner, having claimed it as his spot over a month ago, and leaned back. "I've got to steal this chair from you one of these days."_

_He chuckled as he eyed Elliot who was getting way too relaxed in it. "So, how's it going with your wife?"_

_Elliot actually smiled as he sipped on the drink. "We're working it out. She moved back home two weeks ago."_

_"That's, yeah…I'm happy for you."_

_Elliot looked over at him and asked, "Why don't you have dinner with us on Saturday?"_

_Quickly shaking his head as he rubbed it, he told him, No, I don't think…You two just got back on good terms."_

_"So," Elliot said, shrugging. "She knows that you're my friend and I want you to meet my family."_

_That surprised him. He felt a little apprehensive about having dinner with Elliot's family, but he couldn't turn his friend down. In that last two months, Elliot had helped him out a lot even when he shouldn't have. They had gone from hating each other to not going a week without talking to one another. He found himself nodding while saying, "Okay. What time?"_

_"I'll call you and let you know."_

Once he was done in the kitchen, he started on the living room. As soon as he started, he couldn't stop. His body needed to release the energy and he needed to exhaust himself so he could hopefully finally get some sleep. He was finishing up his bedroom when Elliot walked in.

Staring down at him and rubbing at the back of his head, Elliot asked, "Have you slept yet?"

Bobby unplugged the vacuum cleaner and started to wrap the cord back up as he simply answered, "No."

"Maybe if you actually tried you might be able to."

Glancing up at Elliot, he grabbed the vacuum and carried it out of the room. Bobby took it into the kitchen and opened the closet. After putting the vacuum away, he looked around as he made sure that everything was done. It looked a hundred times better and it smelled better too. "Are you going home?"

Elliot smiled a little as he pulled out his keys. "Yeah, since I'm up, I might as well." As he walked by him, he patted him on the shoulder. "It'll get better."

"When?"

Elliot didn't look like he had an answer to that, and he didn't offer one as he said, "I'll see you Saturday. You better get some rest before then or you'll be hearing it from my wife."

Bobby nodded a little as he watched him leave before locking the door. Turning off the light to the kitchen, he went into the living room and collapsed on couch.

* * *

"You missed your ride to the ferry," Logan stated softly as he looked up from the desk.

Bobby dropped into his chair and breathed out into his cold hands. He had forgotten his gloves at home and his hands felt frozen. "I overslept," was his response and Logan had a look like he didn't believe him. Not bothering to defend his excuse, he flipped open his binder and got down to business. "And since we're now working separately, I drove here."

Logan stared over at him in disbelief. "You're taking your personal vehicle out? Isn't that a little dangerous?"

Bobby gave an indifferent shrug as he gathered up the files on the Terrence Hughes case into his binder. "It's not like I'm gonna be conducting any stakeouts in it. I'm going to visit the Hughes home, then followed up on what I find out there. Take a look at the crime scene…You know, simple police work." Catching Logan's eyes, he asked, "Anymore Jane Doe's or murdered prostitutes?"

Logan shook his head.

"Okay, if you need me, call my cell or use the radio."

As Bobby stepped out into the frigid winter air and started buttoning up his overcoat, he couldn't help but wonder how Alex's first day with her new partner was going.

* * *

Taking her cue from what Bobby had theorized about the Connelly case, Alex had contacted Carver about their suspicions. After receiving a call back from the ADA, they had agreed to meet that morning at the courthouse since he was going to be in court all day.

Copeland arrived early for his first day on as a detective with the Major Case squad. Alex was in the break room when he arrived and she watched through the glass window that separated the rooms as the detective took a seat at the desk across from hers. She felt the twist of sorrow and anticipation in her gut as she watched him try to get comfortable in the seat that once belonged to Bobby.

Unlike Bobby, Copeland wasn't wearing a suit and tie. Instead, he sported a blue sweater under the black leather jacket her wore along with a pair of blue jeans. She didn't know if it was a good thing or not that he felt comfortable enough to wear what he liked instead of trying to impress on the first day. A few detectives including Anderson, Matthews, Andrews, and surprisingly Richie, walked over to him and shook his hand and started talking to him. It seemed that they all knew each other as they talked and laughed.

She couldn't remember the last time Bobby had that kind of interaction with anyone, yet alone from a group of other detectives. Last night after the basketball game was the closest she had seen him actually looking comfortable around his colleagues. Finally gathering enough strength to go out into the squad room, she stirred some sugar into her coffee and left the room.

As she approached her desk, the other detectives walked away as Copeland looked up at her and watched while she sat down. Pointing his finger at her, he said, "You were at the gym last night."

Alex smiled at him as she leaned back in the chair. "Yes, and I got to watch you knock my ex-partner and boyfriend around the court."

Copeland eyed her before smiling. His smile was wide, showing off a set of teeth that should be in a toothpaste commercial. "If I'm not mistaken, he knocked me down first."

"Was that after you elbowed him in the eye?"

Copeland leaned back as if he was really trying to remember before saying, "Yes, I believe it was, and that was an accident by the way." He studied her for a moment before leaning forward on the desk. "Detective Eames, I'm not looking to get into a fight with you. I understand that this probably isn't what you were expecting, I know I wasn't. And as for your ex-partner, we're okay. Last night was…It was nothing. I tried to apologize to him, but he was actually enjoying it. He invited me to play with him anytime. So, I was hoping, since me and Goren can get past this," he shrugged as he left it at that.

Alex gave it some thought as she gathered up her purse and grabbed her overcoat. "We'll see; unlike Bobby, I have to do more than play ball with you."

It was only after they got into the SUV and headed out onto the streets of New York when Copeland spoke again. "I read about you and Detective Goren in the papers."

Alex stiffened in the seat as she slowed for a red light. "Oh, and what did you read?" she asked, showing Copeland that she wasn't going to be afraid or intimidated by his questioning of her. If that was what he was going to do.

"Just about what happened. The abductions, both of yours, and about the relationship. I understand why the brass did what they did, but I also think that they took it too far."

Alex wasn't expecting that at all, especially coming from the Assistant Chief of D's nephew. Glancing over at Copeland, she asked, "What do you think they should have done?"

Copeland shrugged a little as he told her, "I don' know. A suspension, a hearing, maybe a separation of you two as partners, but not a demotion and sending him to Staten Island. That was just harsh."

"You mean you're not against me and Bobby being together?"

Copeland looked at her as he asked in disbelief, "Against? Hell no. It's hard to find love in this job, and an understanding companion at that. For you to not only find it with each other but to keep it a secret for so long, that takes balls."

Alex smiled slightly to herself as she turned the corner, growing closer to their destination. "I see…So, who is she?"

Copeland didn't respond for a long moment, not until she looked over at him once they were parked. "How'd you know."

"Oh, I don't know. Call it woman's intuition. Do I know her?"

Copeland just smiled as he opened to door to the SUV. "She doesn't work for the Major Case squad."

"That doesn't answer my question," Alex said as she fell instep with her new partner as they headed up the steps to the courthouse to meet Carver who was waiting for them.

"Now, Detective Eames, I can't tell you all my secrets in one day. Where's the fun in that?" he asked with a hint of teasing in his voice. "Besides, I only talk relationships with my partners over a drink. How 'bout it?"

"If your investigative skills are as good as your charm, I think we'll get along just fine, Copeland."

"You can call me Harry if you'd like."

Alex reached the top of the steps as she looked up at him. How come all her partners were so freaking tall. "Maybe, but only after you buy me that drink."

Copeland's smile was wide and infectious as she found herself smiling along with him as they entered the courthouse together.

* * *

The house that Terrence Hughes grew up in was very homely, and comfortable, with bright colors and good smells. It was a small three bedroom only two blocks from the park where the neighborhood kids played during the summer, and had snowball fights during the winter. Mrs. Hughes had been in the kitchen when he arrived and she still wore the apron that had printed across the front '1 Mom'.

From the pictures on the walls and the tables, Bobby saw that Terrence had also been a big brother to his younger sister. She looked to be about four or five.

"Can I get you anything, coffee?"

Bobby could tell that she wanted to make him coffee; she had an timid eagerness about her and he felt that maybe in order for her to talk she had to be doing something. "Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

Giving him a smile, she turned and went back into the kitchen, he followed. Stopping inside the entryway to the kitchen, he took a moment to look around. There were school papers and drawing magnetized to the refrigerator door. Most looked to be from the daughter from the brightly colors drawings of roses and animals.

One paper caught his eye and he looked at it more closely. It was Terrence's last report card; he had made straight A's except for the B in Spanish. He noticed that he was taking classes in electronics and computers. There was another sheet paper hanging next to it and it was his class schedule. At the bottom he had written down all his after school activities and times.

"He was always doing things like that."

Bobby looked up toward her voice and smiled. Pointing to the schedule, he said, "He made it easy for you to know where he was all the time."

Handing the cup to him, she told him, "Every since his father died, Terrence stepped up, became the man in the family. He didn't want me to worry about where he was if he didn't come home straight from school so he wrote down his schedule. He was always doing something."

"How was he with his sister?"

A light filled her timid eyes as she thought about her son. "Amazing. Heaven was in love with him because he never left her behind."

"Heaven, that's her name?"

Mrs. Hughes smiled brightly. "We didn't plan her, but that does mean that she wasn't wanted. I went into labor with her two months early, she had problems, but fought through them. My husband picked the name, said she was a gift from Heaven."

"And your son, he…uh, he was witness to her struggle as a baby?"

"Yeah, I think that was one of the reason why he clung to her like he did. Whenever he went to the park to play, he always took her along. They would even go to the movies sometimes, just the two of them. He never took her when he went with his friends because they liked those horror movies," she said with a laugh. "But whenever there was a Disney or some cartoon movie out that she wanted to see, he would take her even though he hated them."

Bobby smiled at her reflection of her son. He knew that she cared for him greatly. He also knew that if it wasn't for the fact that she had to stay strong for her daughter, the death of her son could have been the end of her. "I'm…I'm very sorry for your lose, Mrs. Hughes. I mean that."

She looked into his eyes for a long moment before her demeanor crumbed. Tears she had been holding back gushed from her eyes as her body shook. Bobby placed the cup down and helped her to the table because it looked as if she wasn't going to make it in time before falling to the floor. Setting her down in a chair, he retrieved the cup of coffee and placed it on the table before making her a cup. Not know how she took it, he left it black but put the creamer and sugar on the table in case she wanted it. Spotting a Kleenex box on the counter by the phone, he picked it up and placed it on the table as well as he pulled one out and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she got out between sobs.

Bobby didn't say anything as he sat in the chair across from her, sipped on the coffee, and waited. He would have waited all day if that was how long Mrs. Hughes needed before she could talk to him.

After a few minutes, she told him, "You're not the detective who came to my house three weeks ago. What happened to him?"

Bobby glanced down at the cup in his hand before telling her, "Detective Sullivan resigned. I took over his cases."

She sat and thought about that; something about the way she looked sparked his curiosity.

"Mrs. Hughes, whatever it is that's bothering you…you can tell me."

Looking at him, her brown eyes filled with gratitude as she told him, "You're not like him. Detective Sullivan was very…impersonal, almost like he didn't care. I remember yelling at him for it. He wasn't here long, and he didn't even drink the coffee I made for him."

Bobby felt the anger at Sullivan stir in his gut as he cursed the man. Once he was done talking to Mrs. Hughes, he was going to pay a visit to the ex-cop. "When he was here, what did he ask you?"

Mrs. Hughes wiped her eyes and cheeks with the Kleenex before answering him, "He just asked about that night. If I knew where he went or if he was coming home. He asked…um, he asked if he had any enemies, or if he had been in any fights." She looked right at him as she told her, "He didn't. He wasn't a fighter. You can call the school; he had never been in trouble."

"I believe you, and I already contacted his school. They said that he had been there, that night, until five? Is that correct?"

She nodded. "It's on his schedule. He stays after on Tuesday's for tutoring. That B in Spanish didn't come easy. He was working on bringing it up to an A."

"He was adamant about his grades. Did he play sports?"

"Oh yes. Basketball. He was great. I knew that he would've easily gotten a scholarship for college."

Bobby nodded as he told her, "I'm sure he would've." He watched the grieving mother for a moment as he leaned closer to her. "Mrs. Hughes, the night that your son was killed…what happened? Was he walking home?"

She nodded as her hands gripped the Kleenex tighter.

"Did he play ball that evening in the park?"

"I don't know where he was coming from," she told him, shaking her head. "It wasn't like him to not call or tell me. He always called, and he always made sure I knew where he was and what he was doing. I know he left the school at a couple minutes after five because he called me when he left. He said he was walking home…It was after ten when the police showed up at my door. I was worried sick for five hours waiting on him to get home or call. I think I called his cell phone every five minutes when it was six o'clock and he still wasn't here. They said he was killed around nine…"

That meant that there was four hours missing between the time Terrence left his school and said he was walking home to the time he was struck by the vehicle that killed him. Bobby knew that his next question might upset her, so he gently asked while taking her hand, "Mrs. Hughes, did, uh, did you and Terrence have a fight that day or the day before…argue about anything, even something minor or…trivial?"

She shook her head as more tears welled in her eyes. "We stopped fighting after his father passed. We used to, but…once it was just us, like I said, he became the man, and he stopped being so…stubborn. He saw how I was falling apart so he did everything he could for me. He was always helping me with the groceries and with my car, making sure everything was working right, especially in the winter time. He loved working on engines…He wanted to be an engineer, that's why playing ball and getting a scholarship was so important to him. It wasn't about basketball, it was about his dream of working on jet engines and rockets. He wanted to work for NASA."

"And you said that he usually told you everything."

"Yes, everything. We talked about his interests, school, girls, his friends. I would wait up for him to come home no matter how late it was so we could talk in case he wanted to. Sometimes he did that, like after dates. He had so many questions about girls, very inquisitive. We were so close," she said as her voice broke and more tears slipped down her face. "I don't know what your relationship is like with your mother, Detective, you probably don't even understand, but…"

"No, I understand completely, Mrs. Hughes," Bobby told her as he thought about the yearning he always had for that type of relationship with his own mother. "A-a, uh, a boy's best friend is his mother."

She smiled at him and nodded with tears streaming down her cheeks. "He was a good boy. And I know you hear that all the time from parents but he was." She was silent for a moment as her grief hit her all over again. "Who did this? What kind of coward does something like that, take a young life, and then runs away?"

Bobby winced at that question. He didn't know, but he was sure as hell going to find out. He let her cry as he refilled the cup with more coffee and sat back down. She had barely touched hers but it didn't matter, as long as he drank it then that was all that mattered. Once she got herself back under control, he had one more question to ask before he got all the names and information of Terrence's friends.

Not sure how to breach the subject, he just asked as simply and easily as he could, "Mrs. Hughes, I just have one more question. Um…Terrence's father…What happened to him?"

She dabbed at her eyes as she told him, "It was a accident at his work. He worked construction in the city. One of the tools he was using had a short in the wiring, and it shocked him so bad he lost his balance…He fell four stories."

Bobby closed his eyes and shook his head. The grief this woman had been suffering though, losing her husband and now her son…He felt the pain in his own heart and soul as he thanked her for her time. After getting the information about her son's friends, he showed himself out of her house.

Getting into his car, he sat in the coldness as he stared up at the house that Mrs. Hughes was suffering privately for the death of the two men in her life. A school bus pulled up on the corner, letting off the young children from morning kindergarten. Skipping down the snow covered sidewalk with a pink lunch box that matched her pink snowsuit and pigtails was Terrence's little sister, Heaven.

Bobby watched as she enjoyed the snow that had fallen. The innocence of youth was something that he still felt in awe of. His had been over so quickly and he was afraid that from the tragic killing of her brother and the death of her father, that that young girl's innocence might also be gone far to soon.

Opening up the glove box, Bobby grabbed the pack of cigarettes he had kept in there. He lowered the window slightly before he lit it up and took a desperate drag from it, hoping it would ease his growing anger. He needed to be calm as he questioned Terrence's friends. And he needed to be calm before he went to see Sullivan.

Bobby sat silently in the car, smoking his cigarette and watching as Heaven played in the snow as he thought about the things Mrs. Hughes had told him. He thought about Terrence and his devotion to his family. He thought about her description of Sullivan. Mostly he thought about the relationship she had with her son. There was a yearning in him, one that he had his whole life, and it was for one single person: his own mother. He hoped that Terrence, before his death, knew how lucky he was to have had such a close and loving relationship with his mother.

He waited until the little girl jumped up the steps and then disappeared into the house covered in snow before he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

* * *

Terrence's friend couldn't help him. They knew just as little as Mrs. Hughes as to where he had been walking from on the night he was killed. All of his friends told him the same thing. That Terrence had left school a little after five and that he was on his way home. Somewhere between the school and his home something had caused him to change courses. He went somewhere, did something, for three to four hours, before he started walking home again.

It had happened at around nine, Bobby decided to wait until then to go to the scene of Terrence's death. He wanted to see that street at night; see the shadows, see the kind of people the area attracted at night. He needed to know if his death was intentional or an accident.

Unlike most of the detectives that worked Staten Island, Lance Sullivan actually lived there as well. He lived in a middle class neighborhood just one street over from the million dollars houses of politicians and he was sure also a few mobsters lived on that street as well.

The ranch style house was all brick and vinyl, including the garage that he pulled up in front of like he lived there. There was no vehicle in the driveway or parked on the street so he wasn't certain if Sullivan was even home as he walked up the path to the door. Knocking twice, he waited. After a couple of minutes, he went to knock again when the lock turned and the door was slowly opened.

Through the crack between the door and the frame, he saw Lance Sullivan's narrow blue eyes a second before he registered the long silver barrel of a Colt .45 pistol. Bobby eyed the gun briefly before turning his eyes up to stare at the man holding it. "Hey, Sully. Can I come in?" he asked, indicting that he didn't care that a gun was pointed at his chest.

"What'd you want, Goren?"

Bobby said as nonchalantly as before, "Just to talk. I had to take over your cases since you quit. I wanted to ask you about one of them. You didn't, um…there was nothing in the files. No notes, or…you know, no other information except for the evidence reports. I wanted to know what you thought…C'mon, man, it's freezing out here."

Sullivan looked like he was going to slam the door in his face before he huffed out a breath of air as he opened the door wide enough to let him in.

As soon as he stepped inside, Sullivan shut the door behind him and gestured with the hand that held the gun for him to sit down.

"What case did you want to know about?"

Bobby didn't take a seat as he watched Sullivan cross the room to the armchair. He was looking like a man who had been fired, not a man who had willingly quit. Sullivan was normally a clean shaven man, but it looked like he hadn't shaved in weeks. He was wearing a white wife-beater and a pair of black sweatpants with nothing on his feet. His breath had smelt like whiskey and he spotted a bottle of Wild Turkey whiskey on the table next to the armchair. The ashtray next to the bottle was over flowing with cigarette butts and just to the left of Sullivan's armchair on the floor was a open bible.

He looked like a man haunted and searching for answers, for redemption. Much like himself. Bobby waited until Sullivan put the gun down before he eased himself heavily down onto the couch. It wasn't lost on him that Sullivan had put the weapon on top of the bible. Not wanting to talk about the case just yet, he gestured to the whiskey bottle, "Mind if I have a drink?"

Sullivan titled his head back as his eyes narrowed even more at him; he was trying to gage his motive for being there and once he was satisfied with what he saw, he got up and went into the kitchen. He was gone for a little less than five seconds before he walked back out with a glass. Pouring enough to fill the glass halfway, he handed it to him before sitting back down and pouring himself another glass.

"You drink on duty, Goren? Never would have guessed it," Sullivan said with a teasing sly smile and laugh that betrayed his tired eerie eyes.

"What can I say, I'm full of surprises." Bobby raised the glass up to his lips as he watched as Sullivan downed nearly the entire glass in one swallow. He took a sip of the whiskey, barely enough to get a taste on his tongue, before he dropped it back down to his lap.

Sullivan was too busy getting drunk to notice that he was barely drinking what was in the glass. "There's nothing better than a shot of whiskey to warm the body, especially in the bitter cold. How's it, Goren?"

"Good, thanks."

"So," Sullivan asked as he leaned back in the chair; it seemed that he was more comfortable with him in his house, and that was exactly want Bobby wanted.

He wanted Sullivan to drop his guard, to open up to him. Bobby had to know what was going on with the detective. When Sullivan smiled and waited for him to tell him why he was there, Bobby took another small sip of the whiskey before telling him, "I just came from talking to Mrs. Hughes…Terrence Hughes' mother."

The way Sullivan blinked at him, fast and deliberate, made Bobby pay closing attention to what he was about to say. "Terrence….? Uh, who's this Mrs. Hughes, I don't know her."

It was avoidance. Sullivan was lying. Bobby tried to play it off as he asked, confused, "Uh, the kid…He was that hit-and-run you pulled three weeks ago."

Sullivan took a long drink of the whiskey as he stared at him. "Oh…that. I forgot her name…You know how it is, too many cases, and faces, and names…It can become all too much."

Bobby nodded even though he didn't know how it was. He knew every case he ever worked, and who every victim was by name and face, and knew every grieving parent the same. He never forgot and he never would. They were why he did this job and why he would always do this job. "Yeah, I get it." He glanced at his drink as he suddenly felt the need of the alcohol. Wanting to down the whole glass, but knowing he couldn't, he closed his eyes as he forced the need down while rubbed at his neck, then his forehead. "Uh…what'd you remember about it? Any, um…any suspensions or…" trailing off, he looked up at Sullivan. "I'm at a dead end, Sully. The kid didn't have a enemy in the world, and he was happy at home and good in school…I know that, that what happened was an accident 'cause I can't see it being intentional."

Sullivan was suddenly very silent and…distant. It was the way he remembered Brenda describing him, and Mrs. Hughes. He had turned cold, and it was making Bobby nervous as to the reason why.

"Goren, do you think that we can all be forgiven?"

Bobby was taken back by that question. He shook his head, not wanting to answer so he could hear what more of what was going on in Sullivan's mind.

"God, he's a heartless…sadistic bastard. He's all knowing, right…and being all knowing, he still allowed mankind to sin. He could've stopped us, but…I guess he wanted to see how badly we could fuck it all up. He probably laugh at us…all of us. Or, if he did have a heart, he's looking down at us with the most troubling expression…"

Bobby felt Sullivan's guilt, and his confusion, having been at a crossroads in his own faith as well. His had happened at the young age of twelve. He had turned his back on God then and never looked back. A lapsed Catholic…That was what he had told Alex. It had been thirty-one years since he left the church and he still suffered like a Catholic. He still felt the shame, and the guilt, the confusion and the anger. It was a constant, daily, battle between him and God. Lately it had been a battle with his demons, both the inner ones and the evil he came across every day on the job.

"He tried to make up for it though, all the shit he knew he was going to put us through. He told us we could repent…that we had hope. There was hope for us. See, he knew what we were going to do. He knew we would kill and rape and lie and cheat and kick our dogs…so, he gave us a way to redeem ourselves. Repent. All we have to do is tell him all the bad things that we've done in our lives, and ask to be forgiven and poof! Magically my ass will be saved and I receive my 'Get out of Hell' free card."

"What'd you do?" Bobby asked as he felt the nervousness in him quicken. It was hard to sit still, but he had to. Any sudden movements, and like a frightened animal, Sullivan would hide. "Why…What made you quit?"

Sullivan fell silent as he rubbed at his mouth and jaw. His eyes stayed on his empty glass for a long moment. "What does it matter…My life is over. Dead men tell no tells. Isn't that right, Goren?"

Bobby glanced at the gun that was on the bible and realized that the bullets that were in it weren't for whoever came knocking on Lance Sullivan's door. They were for the man sitting in the chair drinking himself to death with whiskey. If the whiskey didn't kill him, the lead bullet in the gun would. "No; dead men talk all the time. And you're not dead, Sullivan. You're very much alive, and in pain…that's how we know that we are alive, we feel."

"I don't wanna feel. Not anymore."

"What did you do that was so horrible that you don't think you could be forgiven? That you think you have to end your life to escape? Nothing is worth that, Sullivan. Anything can be forgiven."

Sullivan shifted his heavy dark blue eyes up his him. "You can leave now. I don't know what to tell you about that case. You said it yourself, that kid didn't deserve what he got. He was a good kid…" he closed his eyes and covered them with his hand. "Think I'm gonna go lay down. Lock the door when leave," he told him as he stood up and left the room.

Bobby immediately crossed the room and picked up the gun. Knowing it was probably a wasted effort, he took the bullets from the gun and put them into his pocket. Putting the gun back down on top of the bible, he gave into the need that was itching his throat and downed the rest of the whiskey before he left the house.

As he walked to his car, he decided to peer through the window into the garage. What he saw nearly made his blood run cold. Sitting parked inside the garage was a truck with a customized plate on the front bumper that was clearly dented from having hit something…or someone.

Bobby blinked back before looking toward the door he had just locked. He was trained to treat everyone as a suspect. Now, Lance Sullivan was one.

* * *

Lieutenant Williams hung up the phone and then waved him into her office. "Shut the door behind you please, Detective."

Bobby did as she asked before taking a chair in front of her desk. He waited until she finished writing something in a file before he told her why he was interrupting her work, "I just came from talking to Lance Sullivan."

She sat back in the chair and asked, "And how does this concern me. He's no longer one of my detectives."

"I know, but…I think the department should be aware that he may be suicidal."

At that, Williams froze before leaning forward on her desk. "Are you sure? Or is this another one of you famous hunches."

Bobby shook his head as he told her, "I'm sure. He was drinking heavily, talking about God and being forgiven…"

"And this constitutes suicidal behavior?" she asked skeptically.

"It is when you're holding a loaded Colt .45 in your hand," Bobby told her as he pulled the bullets out of his pocket and sat them on her desk. "When he left the room, I emptied his gun. I really think someone should talk to him, or at least keep an eye out. I know he has more bullets."

She sat still as she eyed the bullets he sat on her desk. Looking up at him, she told him, "I'll call psych services and see if they can send someone to his house to talk to him. Thank you, Detective. Is that all you have for me? How is the case coming along?"

"It's going," he told her as he tried to figure out how to tell he that he was suspecting Sullivan of murder. "Um, there is something else. I noticed that while I was there that Sullivan owns a truck. A-a, uh, a truck was the type of vehicle that struck Terrence Hughes. There was damage on the front grill and hood of, of the truck. Now, it could have been from a separate incident, however, I need to rule him out."

"Detective," she said warily, "are you accusing Sullivan of the hit-and-run on your victim?"

Bobby nodded as he told her simply, "Yes."

Williams didn't like that at all. He was afraid that she might jump behind the cop and tell him that he needed more than that to convince her to go to the ADA with it. She surprised him by telling him, "Okay. I'm talk to the ADA and see what he says. I'll try to get you a warrant for the truck by tomorrow morning."

Bobby stood and went to head out of the office; turning as he opened the door, he told her, "Thank you."

* * *

"Great, this case just keeps getting better and better," Alex said as she leaned back in her chair. "Not only is this guy not cheating on his taxes, but he's also not affiliated with organized crime either. He's Mr. Squeaky Clean."

They had succeeded in getting search warrants for the personnel files from all the employees that was working or had worked for Mr. Connelly's casino boats, as well for all the reports from his business along with all his tax returns since the man turned eighteen years old. So far, the guy's records were immaculate.

"It looks like Mr. Clean isn't as squeaky as he appears," Copleland told her as he looked up from the file he was reading.

Alex peered over the file she was holding at that. "How so?"

"I think he might be associated with cops…crooked cops."

"I can just hear Goren now," she said as she took the file he handed her. "He predicted that the Connelly's had cops of their payroll the night they were killed."

Copeland smiled. "And we proved him right."

Alex sighed and shook her head, "Like always."

"You're missing him, aren't you?"

Alex smiled softly at her new partner. "Yeah, I am, but don't get me wrong. As far as partners go, you're one of the best I've had so far….besides Goren."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Now, lets go see if we can stir-up some trouble with the Staten Island PD."

* * *

He drove around the neighborhood first. It was a nice quiet neighborhood that was only a few streets from where the ferry docked. Glancing at the list of Terrence's friends, he saw that none of his friends or family lived in the neighborhood or in the surrounding areas. There was no reason for Terrence to have been there at nine o'clock at night.

Slowing to a stop at the corner, he observed the street. There were no obstructions, no bushes or bad lighting, no trees or buildings on the corner. No blind spots anywhere. Opening the file folder that was on his passenger seat, he reviewed the coroner's reports and the photos that the CSU's took of Terrence. He was wearing a white t-shirt, pair of blue jeans. He should have been clearly scene, even at night, and it hadn't been snowing that evening according to the reports.

Bobby let his foot off the brake and rounded the corner before pulling up to the curb and parking. He got out of his car and looked around the street. The person who had called the police lived in the house across the street from where Terrence had been hit. The lights were off and there was no vehicle out front or in the driveway so he didn't bother to try and talk to them.

He had to figure out why Terrence was out there, miles away from his neighborhood, and out of contact with his family. Why had he not called? Where had he gone? Bobby turned around to open the door back to his car when he stopped. Right in front of him was the skyline of Manhattan, bright and reflecting off the water.

Maybe it wasn't on Staten Island where Terrence had been hanging out for three hours? Bobby got back into his car and headed straight for the Staten Island Ferry Station. He knew that it was a long shot, but maybe someone recognized him.

The station was busy with people coming and going. Pulling out his shield and clipping it to his overcoat, he was able to bypass the long lines and the get through the mass of people that was crowding the ticket line.

Stepping up to the counter, he asked the woman who was working behind it, "Was you working this time last night three weeks ago?"

She barely looked up at him with annoyance before answering, "I work this time every night. It's my shift."

Bobby pulled out the photo of Terrence Hughes and showed it to her. "You recognize this kid? He would have been coming back around nine."

"Nope," she told him after only glancing at the picture. "So many people come and go, I'm not going to remember seeing one kid out of fifty."

Bobby sighed in frustration as he looked around. There were cameras set up at every corner and behind the counter. "Those work?" he asked, pointing to the camera behind her desk.

"Sure do, and they record. If you want them, you have to talk to Larry, he's the head of security."

"Is he here?"

She pointed behind her to a door that was only marked with a sign that read 'Authorized Personnel Only'. "Through that door. I'll buzz you in."

"Thanks."

It was after ten when he finally made it back to the department with the DVD of the night Terrence was killed. The homicide floor was less than half full of the detectives, most of them were already gone for the night or out on the streets like him, working. He grabbed a television set that was strapped down to a cart and rolled it over to his desk. Putting the DVD into the player, he pressed play as he grabbed the remote.

Fast forwarding through the disk, he stopped when the time appeared on the bottom right as being 8:50 pm. He watched for a few seconds until Terrence Hughes came on screen. His arm was wrapped around a girl's shoulder as he walked off the ferry, by the counter, and then out the doors. That girl must have been a girlfriend. Whoever she was, she wasn't on the list his mother gave him.

It looked like Terrence was a typical teenager after all. He was hiding his girlfriend from his mother.

TBC…


	6. Damn it Bobby another missed opportunity

A/N: This story is finally getting to the good stuff, lol. I've had to do a lot of setting things up but it's all about ready to plow into one another in the next coming chapters. Here's a little B/A collision to get things going.

Enjoy!

* * *

The streets glowed around him in Christmas lights and neon signs all the way from Manhattan, over the bridge, and to his apartment in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. It was dark and empty as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He tossed the keys onto the table and opened the refrigerator. Taking out a beer, he stood staring at it before putting it back. He didn't feel like being home. He didn't feel like drinking away another night in front of his television either.

He hadn't felt like doing a lot of things lately. His life had been abruptly brought to a screeching halt. After checking his machine and finding no messages, he picked up his keys and left.

It was a short walk to his neighborhood bar but the cold wind was furiously assaulting his body. Pulling his collar up around his neck, he ducked his head down as the wind cut through his clothes and stung his skin. By the time he reached the bar, the snow was coming down thicker, making it harder to see despite all the lights that illuminated the street. As he stepped through the door, a wave of heat hit him just as strong as the wind outside had.

The bar had its regulars and he was highly aware of the fact that he was becoming one of them. That idea depressed him. It used to be that he only made an appearance in the bar once or twice a month, if that. Now, it was growing to an every other day occurrence. He knew it was really getting bad when he sat down and the bartender automatically mixed his drink the way he liked it and had it ready for him before he even opened his mouth.

They were off tomorrow and instead of going into work on his day off like he would normally do, he was actually going to stay home. He would only go in if the Lieutenant called and told him that the ADA got him the search warrant for Lance Sullivan. His work day tomorrow if there was one would only be as long as it took him to execute the search and seizure of Sullivan's truck.

The driving force that was behind his abandonment of not only his home but his normal working duties on his day off was that today Alex had gotten her new partner. It was official. They were as far apart as they could ever be and he didn't know what to do about it. He didn't know what to think about it. All he knew was how he felt.

He was angry. He was scared. He was lost. And he wanted to do nothing but drink it all away.

Bobby lifted the glass up to his lips and as he took his first sip his cell vibrated against his hip. Without putting his drink down, he used his right hand to dig out the phone from his pocket. Flipping it open, he didn't look at the display before he answered, "Goren."

He took another sip as he expected to hear the caller. Silence greeted him, confusing him as he swallowed the bourbon mixed with coke. "Hello?" he asked. As soon as he went to pull the phone away to see who was calling he heard her voice.

"Hey, Bobby."

Bobby stilled his hand against his ear as he stared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Blinking back, he replied simply, "Hey." The glass in his hand hit the top to the bar as he sat it down while he shifted on the stool.

They were both silent until he heard her strained laugh. It hit his heart and darkened his soul. Unlike her first phone call to him a few days ago, she seemed more nervous calling him now. He dropped his head and closed his eyes as she started talking to him.

"Am I calling you too late?"

He barely parted his eyes as he looked up at the clock above him to confirm the time. It was ten past one in the morning. "It's never too late, Alex."

She was silent but he could hear her breathing. "You're not trying to sleep are you?"

Shaking his head into the phone, he told her, "I'm not…" he stopped himself from telling her that he wasn't at home but in a bar. "No, I'm not."

"You sound tired."

"So do you," Bobby said softly into the phone as he closed his eyes once more. The whole bar disappeared as he fully concentrated on Alex's voice in his ear.

She was silent before admitting, "I haven't really been able to sleep since…"

Even though she stopped talking, he could hear the rest of that sentence. Bobby felt the guilt creep up his neck like a heat wave of embarrassment. Rubbing at his forehead, he struggled with his emotions as his head pounded. He should be there with her, protecting her from the nightmares that kept her awake.

"I've been seeing Dr. Olivett."

"She's good," he told her, trying to re-enforce Alex's decision to talk to someone.

"Yeah, she is, but…she's not enough."

Bobby opened his eyes. Staring into his drink, he pushed down the guilt and misery in his heart as he pushed the glass away. Sliding off the stool, he tossed some money down and left as Alex continued talking to him.

He didn't remember the walk home to his car, or the lights that blurred by him as he drove. He focused on her voice, the words she was saying, and the loneliness that etched her voice.

"It's hard, you know. It gets so quiet here at night. In the city, it didn't seem so lonely. Out here, all I hear is silence. The silence should be comforting…It's not, because it doesn't feel the same. Nothing here feels the same."

In all the years he had known her, he had never heard her sound so desperate for connection that it was nearly driving him mad.

"I've thought about moving. The only thing that's stopping me is the snow," she said with a joking laugh that sounded surreal. "This is the worst winter we've had in a long time."

The conversation drifted in and out of his head as the scenery did before him as he hit the gas harder and turned on the lights. Not to cause alarm to Alex on the other end of the phone, he left the siren off as he sped through the streets.

"My family, they try to visit when they can, but with the holidays and the all the crazy work schedules…I don't think we'll be able to really get together until Christmas."

It was hard to drive as he listened to her describe what it had been like for her for the past seven weeks. The pain, loneliness, and fear. It wasn't her. She was changing, or, as it was, the world was changing her. He had changed her. And, even though he didn't like to admit it, she had changed him.

Her voice cut through him as he was growing closer to his destination. It started with a deep sigh and then a strained tremor and that was when he knew she was crying.

"…I miss you. I miss my friend, Bobby."

She missed her friend. That was something he had thought they would never stop being but somewhere along the line it had happened. They had lost each other. His hand was trembling against his ear as a wetness trickled down his cheek and he realized he had broken. The tears came down and blurred his vision as his throat locked. There were so many things he needed and wanted to say to her but his throat wouldn't respond. It ached with a tight pain that made his eyes blur with unshed tears.

"I should--…I shouldn't have pushed you so far away, but…you, you…"

He, he. Him. He had damaged her trust in him. He had ruined her ability to forgive him. He was the reason she was alone now and in so much agony and fear. He was the reason she couldn't sleep at night.

A turn was approaching fast and he released the accelerator before easing down on the break as best he could before he had to take the sharp turn. It hadn't been enough, the car spun as it fishtailed around the corner. His hand dropped the phone as his grip tightened on the wheel trying to regain control of the out-of-control vehicle. His heart was beating so fast in his chest he thought it was going to explode as the world around him blurred and spun. He went for the brake as the sound of screeching tires pierced his ears as a blinding light filled his vision just before his head hit the side of the door. His vision darkened then went foggy as his body rocked and strained against the seatbelt before coming to an abrupt halt against the back of the seat.

In the seconds that followed, it was so quiet all he heard was his rapid breathing as he clenched his eyes shut against the sharp burst of pain that overtook his entire body. Opening his eyes, he took in the street before him and realized he was way too close to a brick wall. He was stopped on the sidewalk. That was when he saw the display window and his reflection staring back at him. Staring blankly and in confusion at himself and his car through it, he realized that the bright lights that had blinded him wasn't from another vehicle, but his own.

Slowly easing down on the brake pedal, he shifted the car into park. He hadn't hit anything, but he was so shaken up that he couldn't continue driving just yet. And the pain in his head was throbbing with a furious force. Reaching up, he felt something wet. He pulled his hand down to his lap and saw the blood. The window next to him was fractured from where he hit his head.

The cell was in his lap and he was glad to see that when he had dropped it, it had hung up. Ignoring the pain in his body, he pushed open the door and stumbled out. The world around him was still spinning as his nerves raced. Feeling the shot of pain flare in his leg was enough to cause it to buckle under his weight. He fell back against the trunk of his car and slid down to the sidewalk. Sweat was mixing with blood as it ran down his face. Bobby had to swallow the nausea that bubbled up from his stomach at what had just happened.

Despite the fact that he was okay, that his car was still intact, and that there was no damage only a minor cut in his head, it still unnerved him. He hadn't been in many car accidents in his life, only one, and that had been one too many. This time it was different; he was the one driving, the one who had made the nearly fatal error that could have cost him or someone else their life.

Burying his throbbing head in his hands, he waited for the world to stop spinning.

* * *

It had been almost an hour since Bobby had hung up on her. She didn't even attempt to call him back as she waited on him to call her. He never did. That pissed her off more than anything. Even if it had been a lost connection, he would have called her back. So, it wasn't a lost connection.

Alex rolled onto her back and started up at the ceiling as she picked up the cell again and stared at it through her burning wet eyes. He had hung up on her. She tossed the phone back onto the bed as she rubbed at her tired eyes. What was wrong with him? She wondered again not for the first time as she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.

A pounding on her front door caused her to jump.

Slowing getting out of bed where she had curled up with a thick blanket and glass of wine to call Bobby, she hesitantly made her way to the door. Looking through the peephole, she inhaled sharply in disbelief at who was staring at her though it, like he could actually see her. Maybe he could, she wouldn't put it past him.

Opening the door, she came face-to-face with his dark brown eyes. Bobby just stood there, breathing hard and unmoving, as he stared at her as everything inside of her started to break. All the emotions, good and bad, that she had for the man standing before her crashed together with all the exhaustion and pent up bravery that she had strived on for the nearly eight weeks. They trembled inside of her before breaking free.

She took two steps toward him before her legs gave. He caught her before she hit the floor. Wrapping her up in his strong arms, he held her as she trembled against him as the warm tears streamed down her face. His voice was soft as he sweetly whispered in her ear words that she couldn't comprehend but didn't have to. The deep rumbling of his voice and the smell that was uniquely him was all she needed to feel the comfort that had been missing from her life for months.

Her legs were no longer grounded on the floor. She was lifted up against his body and she didn't open her eyes to see where he was taking her. She had no fear of him, or his intentions. There was no reason to wonder or worry when it came to Bobby.

He laid her down on the couch, pulled the quilt over her trembling body, placed a long soft kiss on her forehead and then disappeared into the kitchen. She heard him moving around in there, opening and closing cabinets, running the water, and messing with the stove.

Looking back over her shoulder, she watched as he came out of the kitchen with two mugs in his hands. Kneeling down next to her, he gave her a mug filled with hot tea as he sipped on what smelled like coffee but it held a hint of something else mixed with it. Something a lot stronger. He didn't attempt to sit with her even though she could see the desire in his eyes to do so. Instead, he placed his mug down on the table and sat on the floor. Leaning his back against the couch, he closed his eyes.

She watched him as she sipped on the tea. It warmed her and the trembling had stopped but it wasn't due to the drink. It was due to him. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. It had been so long since she had him there that she was having a hard time not wanting to keep him there forever. However, she knew him too well and she knew that he wouldn't stay. The truth of that shook her as she continued to observe him.

Dark circles hallowed out his eyes from his lack of sleep. The stubble of hair on his face was getting thicker, greyer, and it didn't help that the worry lines were drawing his lips into a permanate frown. He was starting to show his age and she was certain so was she.

These last couple of months had felt like the longest they had been apart. And it was all due to her own stubbornness and his persistence. The more he called, the more she refused to give into him. It was going to be on her terms and not his. What had started off as a few weeks turned into almost eight.

Nothing had really changed. He was still the same, just a little more angrier and sadder, and she was…She was also angry, and sad. She was angry with him, with herself, yet she was missing him terribly.

He breathed out deeply, drawing her from her thoughts and rubbed at his head. That was when she noticed the cut in his head and a red bruise forming just below his hairline.

"What happened?" she asked as she reached out and touched it.

Bobby winced at her touch but didn't turn his head away. "Nothing. It's, a, uh…It's getting cold in here," his deep voice stammered out as he got up and went over to the fireplace.

_Damn it, Bobby, another missed opportunity. _She shook her head and sighed in disappointment as she dropped her hand. She quietly observed him as he made a fire as she wondered where he had come from and what had happened. He hadn't been wearing his overcoat when she answered the door, nor his suit jacket. All he had on was a tan dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top to reveal the black t-shirt underneath.

What was going on with him and why couldn't he tell her? She was so confused with so many thoughts and emotions swirling in her. She hated it. She hated the fact that he made her crazy. For weeks she had tried to figure out if she could live without him being a part of her intimately private life.

If she could love him despite his faults and anger, his way of loving and his way of disconnecting, his demons and his saints. It had been hard trying to separate herself from it all emotionally to make a clear decision, but then they were thrown together again over a murder of a husband and wife. Then worse yet, they were divided apart completely by her getting a new partner. A permanate partner that wasn't the man sitting on the floor in her living room.

Seeing him again, being able to interact with him, and seeing his smile and hearing his voice, it had stirred up all those feelings and all those questions. It took her by surprise that the one emotion that filled her completely with seeing him again was love. And the question that took over all the others was if he still loved her. She knew he did, but she had burned him, hurt him, and ripped his heart open. How she knew that was because she had seen the pure fear and panic in his eyes when she had shut the door on him the last night they were together.

He was truly lost and broken, and that was the same look he had in his eyes when she had opened the door to him just a few minutes ago. It was the same look he had in his eyes as he stared into the fire that was building in fury. That look was painful to see because she knew that she was part of the reason it was there.

"Bobby."

He turned to look at her. The fire made his eyes flicker with a light that heightened the intensity of his stare. Her body froze as their eyes locked and for a long moment she was drawn into the part of his soul he rarely let known; what she saw made her shiver. It was depressing, heart-breaking, and it was surrounded in a smoldering darkness. Before she had time to figure out what it was, or meant, he blinked and the connection was gone along with the emotions as a small smile pulled at the very edges of the lips she had the urged to kiss.

"What's going on?" she softly asked him. "What happened to you tonight?"

The smile faded as he looked away, back toward the flames and ignoring her and the question. He stood and walked slowly back over to her. Sitting on the floor, he leaned against the front of the couch and rested his head on the cushion. His eyes searched the ceiling as she searched his face.

_Why does he do that? _She wondered. Where did he go and why did he think he had to protect himself that deeply, especially from her? He was still a mystery to her after all these years. Even after he finally gave in the night they broke up and let her into a glimpse of his past, he was still guarding so much more.

Giving in, she instinctively, and with a familiar touch, went to him. Running her hand through his hair, she incited a groan that rumbled out of his chest as his eyes closed. Being able to do that to him always pleased her. That by just her touch she could send him into such depths of peace and pleasure made her feel loved by him. It was one of the many things he did that let her know that he did love her. That he appreciated her, wanted her, and needed her.

Her hand tingled as it caressed down the stubble of hair on his cheek and over his jaw. Trailing her fingertips around his neck, she felt his Adam's apple gulp hard as he swallowed. When his eyes parted, Alex was taken back by the wetness that twinkled in them. She smoothed out the dark circles under his eyes with her thumb, wiping away a tear that hadn't yet to fall; it would never fall, not while she was able to see it.

He ducked his head as he closed his eyes again. Shaking his head, that slight twist of a smile, which held more pain than joy, appeared just before he whispered, "I've missed my friend, too, Alex."

Hearing that gripped her heart and it was hard to keep her own tears from welling once again. The past few months had been hell, she knew. Having to see and hear the ramifications of their decisions and reactions was shattering in the amount of pain it had caused the both of them.

Bobby tilted his head against her hand and breathed out deeply as he placed a light feather kiss to her palm. "I've missed you, so much."

She felt her own eyes close as that whispered declaration filled her newly mending heart. Another soft kiss tingled over her palm, and then another. His head turned once again in her hand then it disappeared. Opening her eyes, they rested on him as he knelt beside her on the floor. He leaned over her as his dark eyes roamed from her eyes down to her lips. They lingered there as he leaned down and then closed as he captured his lips between hers.

A rush of pleasurable need filled her so quickly that it nearly burst as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. The caress of his tongue in her mouth, his soft lips mending with hers, and the heat from his chest as it pressed against hers shook her entire body. How she had missed this man and the love he gave her in the way he kissed, touched, and made love to her. She had craved it for weeks and to now have it was nearly crippling.

She didn't want anything more than to feel him inside her yet when he slid his hand down her chest, and then over her abdomen, she grabbed a hold of it before he ventured lower. Then, somehow, with a great amount of strength, she pushed him away.

The kiss broke with a gush of air between the two of them. Bobby rested his head against hers as his body shivered into her chest. Willing her eyes open to face his disappointment in her, they stared at one another.

His eyes didn't show disappointment. They held only questions and they battled with her apologetic ones until he closed his while shaking his head, asking, "Wha--, what's wrong?"

Taking deep breaths, she tried to center herself as she thought about what to say. She didn't know what to say because she didn't know what it was that made her stop. She wanted and needed him so badly yet it felt like she needed to stop them both before it went any further. "I don't know," she said, choosing to be honest. Right then, she knew that honesty was what they both needed.

"Open your eyes, and look at me," he ordered and she obeyed.

Looking at him, she felt the same desire that was in his eyes and it made her tremble once more. His eyes were smothering and intoxicating, burning a sense of guilt into her for keeping them apart.

The guilt was what made her grab hold of his shirt and jerk him away harder. Why did he do that to her? "Bobby," she went to say but stopped as she couldn't think of what to say to him. She was holding back and she had no idea why.

"Alex," he pleaded in the deepest, softest of whispers as he removed his hand from her death grip. Using his fingertips to trace a trail of heat down her face and neck, he swallowed hard just before saying, "You can trust me."

"Can I?" she asked as she was able to regain some of her control.

"Yes," he stressed as he started placing kisses against her cheek, then down her neck. "Let me…please, let me."

"Bobby…" she took a deep breath before saying, "I don't want you to think that if we make love that everything will be okay, because it won't." Alex tried to push him away again but he wasn't moving.

He groaned against her neck as he sighed in annoyance and that one gesture sparked her anger with him all over again. "I know that," he argued back as he finally lifted his head to look at her. "I know that…that we're going to need a lot of work to get through this." Resting his forehead onto hers, he gripped her shirt a little as he gritted out of his tight jaw, "Please, don't do this to me. I can't, hel--," he broke off and swallowed hard, "help…I can't, stop, from wanting you now that, that I'm here. I-I wanna show you how much…How much I've missed you. Please, let me show you."

It was agonizing hearing his desperation quivering his voice as he pleaded with her. She wanted to give into him, and herself, and make love to him. However, she had finally realized what it was that was keeping her from getting that intimate with him again.

"Bobby, you're still not getting it." Licking her lips, she declared, "I'm sorry, but I haven't completely forgiven you."

The look that rose in his eyes knocked all the air out of her lungs. It was a hard cold stare, and she had no idea if it was directed at her or at his own self. Leaning back, he took a couple of deep breaths as he shifted nervously in his own body. His eyes never left hers until the emotions were gone and he turned his head away. The hands that had been touching her in hungry anticipation were now fidgeting nervously and recklessly with each other as he moved away from her.

He was going to leave her again. She knew it. The disappoint in her struck the cord where her anger was building. She closed her eyes as she tried to push it away as she felt him pushing her away.

To her surprise, he didn't leave, but he wasn't all there with her either. He had thrown the walls back up, shut himself down, and drew that invisible line back between them. Picking up the mug, he downed the contents of it before disappearing once again into the kitchen.

* * *

The hot water was overflowing out of the cup and burning his hand but he couldn't respond to the feeling as he was so deeply withdrawn into his head. She hadn't forgiven him. Her anger with him was still so strong that she couldn't be with him, even though he had seen the desire and passion in her eyes. Dropping his head, he gripped the edge of the counter as he dropped the cup into the sink.

The anger he projected at his self rocked him so hard it was a struggle just to keep from doing something stupid and abrupt like slamming his fist into the cup. Thoughts like that one weren't new to him. He had lost his cool too many times in his life to count, but he could remember the ones that disturbed him the most. The time he had hit his brother, the time he had slammed his fist into the bulletin board at work when he had thought he was responsible for Dan Croyden's suicide, and then the night he had lost it with Alex which had caused all of this.

All those times had a recurring theme. His anger was never pointed at the other person, or who he had hurt, but it was at himself. The accusations that they all threw at him were the right ones, and they were the ones that scared him the most. When it came to his anger, it was out of control. When he would let himself feel and experience his emotions, they took over and blinded him.

Tonight was no different. He could add it to the list of all the times when he had let his emotions get the very best of him. Tonight he had royally screwed up. Burying his head in his wet hands, he didn't hear the water cutting off or hear her until she placed both her hands on his back. Instinctively, he tensed and knew it was the wrong thing to do. There was nothing he could do about it. Sometimes his own body wasn't his; it moved and worked at its own free will. He just went along for the ride.

"I still love you," she tried to reassure him.

"How can you if you can't trust me? Can't forgive me?" He glanced back at her, needing to see her eyes and reaction.

It was the reaction he was expecting. She frowned in disappointment and sadness as she stepped away from him, dropping her hands as she did so.

Turning around, he crossed his arms over his chest as he rested his back against the counter. "You want me to leave?"

She nervously rubbed at her head as her eyes closed. "No," she quickly replied. Alex opened her eyes to be looking directly into his. She seemed as uncertain as he felt. "You've got blood on you shirt," she suddenly told him as she stepped up and ran her thumb over the dry blood on his collar. "What happened? You're not wearing your coat, or jacket. It's freezing outside."

Bobby closed his eyes as he rubbed at his throbbing head. His body was still rushing with adrenaline from earlier and it was hard to keep from taking Alex right there just to release some of it. He had wanted to do just that when she had opened the door to him, but he couldn't move at the sight of her. She was looking so tired, and drained of life and love. It had destroyed him.

"Bobby, you've got a cut in your head."

"I got into an accident," Bobby quickly, and quietly, told her as his voice strained with exhaustion. "I…uh, I lost control of my car when I, I uh, took a turn."

Alex was staring at him for a long moment before nodding.

Bobby could see the accusing concern in her eyes. He pushed himself off the counter and stepped toward her. "It was an accident. I slid on a patch of ice that was covering the entire corner. I looked at it myself. There was no way I could have not slid even if I was going two miles an hour. The cop that showed up even said that I was the seventh car to slid around that corner just today. I was lucky that it wasn't worse. I didn't hit anyone or thing, I just…banged my head on the door when…What?" he asked too defensively with anger at the look she was giving him.

"I wasn't accusing you," Alex calmly told him.

"But you thought it. Or at least were wondering."

Alex looked like she wanted to hit him but instead she nodded, "Okay, yes, I was. Can you blame me?"

No, he couldn't, but that didn't ease the pain in his chest or the anger the pulsed through his blood. "I should go."

"No," she told him, this time more firmly. "I want you to stay. Bobby," Alex stepped closer to him and placed her hands on his chest. It took some effort not to shut his eyes at the touch as he kept his focus on her. "I want you with me. I miss you holding me at night. And you hit your head, you shouldn't be alone."

Why was she making this so much harder? It was killing him being so close and not being able to do more than just hold her. It was the pleading in her eyes that kept him from putting up a fight. She needed this; she needed him to help her get through the nights. He could do that.

Uncrossing his arms, he took a hold of her hands as he stepped closer to her. Moving her arms around him, he pulled her into a hug. Burying his head into her neck and shoulder, he closed his eyes and took it as a blessing that she was letting him do just that.

They held each other for a long time in the quiet darkness of the room that when he lifted his head he realized that she was asleep in his arms. Lifting her up, he carried her to her room and placed her in the bed that he had missed waking up in. After he covered her, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched her.

Where had he gone wrong? How could he have let himself lose her? Those were good questions, an even better one was how was he going to right all the wrongs he had caused. Those were questions he had no answer to. The only person who knew the answers was sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks.

He wanted to do nothing more than to slid in the bed next to her and breathe in her scent until he drifted off to sleep. It was what he wanted to do but what he couldn't bring himself to do. Despite what Alex had told him, he hadn't earned the right to do that. Instead, he slowly and quietly got up and left the room.

Keeping the lights off, he let the glow from the fire light his way around the rooms. He pulled down the bottle of bourbon he had left in the cabinet above the refrigerator. It had been there for months and it had still been unopened when he had gotten it down earlier to add to his cup of coffee. Alex probably didn't even drink the stuff or she hadn't known it was there.

Moving to the table, he settled into the chair and leaned heavily on the table. Closing his eyes, his memories reminded him of the first time he and Alex kissed in that kitchen. She had pinned him to that very chair with her legs and body, and declared her feelings for him as she tried to kiss away all his pain after his abduction.

She had completely destroyed him with her devotion and love toward him. That devotion had scared him then and it terrified him now. And now he knew what that devotion and love could do to him, and his could do to her. They had done what he had always feared they would do to each other. They had collided and when they did, they had nearly tore each other apart.

It was all his fault that their love had backfired. He didn't know how to do it right. Everything he did was based on a love that was blocked by fear and uncertainly, cynical pessimism, anger and desperation, and a passion-driven obsession that was so unfocused and uncontrollable that it was nearly intolerable. It was a passion that thrived on his demons and a obsession to bury himself in them.

If she ever wondered what was hidden in the darkest corners of his soul, that was it. He was sure she had figured some of that out the night he had lost it with her. He had pushed her because of that obsession. And in doing so, he had driven her away. It had gotten so fucked up because he was so fucked up.

He could talk about love to serial murderers while at the same time understanding the depth of their crazy minds. Yet, when it came to Alex and his love for her, he couldn't even get the words out. He couldn't understand the joy behind it all, or the good that could come from it.

Alex loved him in a way that was nearly unconditional. His own parents couldn't even give him that. His parents love toward him came with terms and conditions that he never knew existed, and apparently never got right. Even now, his mother loved Frank more than she loved him. He wished he could blame the disease, but her apathy never touched Frank. It only touched him. So, it had to be him. There was something about him that she couldn't love or accept. Something that kept her from loving him the way she did his brother.

Maybe it had something to do with the darkness in his soul that seemed to darken his eyes. There were times when they appeared nearly black and it had frightened his mother on many occasions. She had told him many times throughout his life that his eyes would sometimes appear to be black, like they were hiding something sinister, and evil.

It could have been the schizophrenia talking; yet, he had seen pictures of when he was younger. He was always so serious in them. There was always something bothering him. While Frank smiled with pride, love, and joy in the photos, he was never smiling. Not once. And his mother was right; his eyes were too dark. There was no light in them.

The light came on when he had met Alex. She had brought him her light, and it had went into him and consumed him. It had awakened his soul and his heart and made him actually think that he was worth a damn. That he was loved and it could actually last.

He had been fooled. It had been too long with too many years of being alone; of being accustom, and conditioned, to being let down in not only love but in life, that her light wasn't enough. It had faded. And when it did, he got angry. He got unfocused. And somewhere along the line, he had not only lost her but himself as well.

The sound of screeching tires echoed through his head and he felt a shiver in his spine as his body jerked awake. It was then that his eyes snapped back into focus and he realized that he was no longer in the kitchen. Instead, he was lying on his back on the floor by the fire and staring up at the ceiling. The bottle of bourbon was being tilted back-and-forth in his left hand while he tried to remember getting up from the table. He couldn't.

His head felt heavy; his eyelids weighed down as he tried to keep them open. The warmth from the fire and the alcohol coaxed him into a false sense of security and comfort. A slight tilt of the room rocked his body causing him to groan and cover his face with his hands. Bringing a leg up, he tried to steady the queasy feeling in his stomach as his head spun with his body.

He needed to stop drinking bourbon. Go back to drinking scotch. Bourbon was his father's drink anyway. His father drank it every day until he died from it.

Bobby opened his eyes at that. Alex had told him he was acting just like his dad. She hadn't known it when she said it, but that was what she said. He was being narcissistic, not caring about her. Thinking that everything was about him, hurting him, affecting him.

It wasn't his fault.

It had always been about him for a very long time. He had taken care of himself since he was seven. Through all the good and bad times of his life; people came and went but in the end it was always him who had to do and deal with it all.

He was numero uno in his book of his life. Only his work and mother came close to beating him out of the top spot. But he worked because he had to or else he wouldn't have a purpose. His work was a part of him so his work was with him at the top spot. And his mother, well, she clawed and fought her way up there next to him as well. He would probably quit his job if it meant saving her life.

So, she was in fact number one. Not himself at all. Not even Alex. Where did she fit? His life had been one miserable ninth circle of Hell when she left him. He had sacrificed his own job for her. Okay, so, Alex was up there at the top spot as well.

Where did that leave him? His mother, his work, his Alex…Bobby counted them on his fingers that blurred in front of him. All in the top spot of his life. His own self wasn't there. Where did he go?

_Where did I go? _Bobby's head felt numb as he shook it and declared that he was done for the night.

He was officially drunk.

Placing the bottle on the coffee table, he laid back down on the floor because the room was spinning and he was afraid he wouldn't make it to the couch. Moments later, he closed his eyes and forgot all about his drunken questioning of his existence.

* * *

She had woken alone in her bed and it had confused her. Wasn't Bobby with her last night? When she walked out into the living room, she stopped as she spotted him. He was curled up in front of the fire on the floor. The bottle of bourbon that had been kept in the cabinet above the refrigerator that Bobby had left in her house months ago was open on top of the coffee table.

Picking it up, she felt the weight of it. It had been a new bottle, never opened, and now more than half of it was gone. It didn't piss her off that he was drinking, it pissed her off that he resorted to it and not her. That instead of being with her and staying with her last night, he choose to sit out there alone and drink. The alcohol was still a crutch and she was still someone he could push away.

Twisting the cap back on the bottle, she put it away and went to put the coffee on. She stopped mid-way with pouring the water into the machine and looked back up at the cabinet. Going over to it, she used a chair to be able to reach it and opened it back up and pulled the bottle down. Taking the cap off, she went over to the sink and emptied it down the drain then threw the bottle way. Once the coffee started to brew, she left Bobby asleep on the floor as she went to take a shower.

When she returned back to the living room twenty minutes later, he was gone. "I can't believe--" she trailed off as she heard a noise outside.

Going over to the window, she looked out and spotted him. Bobby, covered in snow from his head down, was scraping off the ice and snow that had piled on her car during the night. He had also shoveled her steps and the sidewalk leading to the car.

Last night, she had expected him to leave but he had stayed. When she got out of the shower and saw that he wasn't in the house, she thought again that he was gone. He was still there, and he was cleaning snow off her car and warming it up for her. He was showing he still cared; that he still loved her.

She wiped her eyes hard and moved away from the window and finished getting ready for work. Twenty minutes later, she filled a thermos that Bobby had left, or forgotten, full with coffee and then grabbed her coat, purse, and left her house.

Bobby had finished getting all the ice and snow off her car and was shoveling out the snow in front of the driveway as she walked down the steps. He stopped shoveling as he watched her approach him. Looking worried and confused as always, he stepped up to her just as she handed him the thermos.

"I wanted to say thank you."

He took a sip of the hot coffee then smiled. "Did you actually think I was going to make you do it?"

She smiled back solely because he was smiling at her. He was smelling of the bourbon and his eyes were bloodshot. He was going to have one hell of a hangover. "You were wrong." That smile of his faded as she continued, "I do trust you, if I didn't, I wouldn't have let you in. I wouldn't have felt safe and comfortable enough to fall asleep in your arms. As to forgiving you." She closed her eyes as she felt the anger with him boil up from the bottom of her heart. "It's, complicated."

Opening her eyes, she registered the pain in his eyes but he was smiling anyway. It was that soft smile that she knew was presented out of politeness, not happiness. The words he had spoken to her months before filled her head as she watched him. He said that he didn't know how to be happy, or if she could fill that hallow void in him that was constantly making it difficult for him to feel happy for very long.

She believed otherwise because she had been a witness to his moods of joy and happiness. They weren't as often as she would like, but they were there. She had seen the happiness in his eyes, and the real smiles that would lighten up his eyes. Yet, he was right in the fact that she didn't know what he was actually feeling during those times. For all she knew, he wasn't happy. For all she knew, that void was just too big to ever be completely filled, but she was hell bent on trying.

"I don't think it's up to me to forgive you. It's up to you," she said as she shook her head. "You're the one who screwed this up. You have to show me that you still want to be here."

The pain left his eyes as he nodded in understanding. Side-stepping away from her, he leaned down close to her and hesitated a moment before giving her a kiss on the lips. "Have a good day at work, Alex. If it's all right with you, I wanna stay here for a few hours. Get some more sleep before I drive home."

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks," he said before turning to walk up the steps.

"Bobby." When he turned toward her, she continued, "You don't have my key anymore." Taking out her keychain, she found her spare key and took it off the ring. "Here. Lockup when you leave."

Bobby shook his head before taking the key without saying a word.

She watched him as she tried to decipher his mood. When she came up empty, she told him, "Have a good day."

"Drive safe," he called out before he went inside her apartment and shut the door.

TBC…


	7. Number three and counting

A/N: Oh, some more stuff is about to hit the fan. Thanks again for the reviews. They are what keeps me writing…Well, that and my own obsession.

Warning: sensitive subject matter (suicide), this chapter is rated M

* * *

Sullivan had called him. He had just gotten done taking a shower at Alex's apartment when the ex-cop called, telling him that he wanted to talk to him; it was important. Bobby had quickly dressed and rushed out of the apartment. The drive from Rockaway to Staten Island was long. It took him nearly two hours to get there because he had to not only fight the morning traffic of Manhattan but also on the bridge to the island as well. It was only made worse by three-car pileup on the BQE.

As he pulled into Sullivan's driveway, he was hoping that the guy hadn't changed his mind in talking to him. Knocking on the door caused it to move and that was when he realized that it was not only unlocked but open. Hesitating before he entered, and wishing that he had his gun, Bobby took a breath as he used his foot to open the door. It swung open as he stepped through the doorway.

He heard movement and then someone walking down the hallway. "Sully?" Bobby called out just as Sullivan rounded the corner. Breathing a sigh relief, he asked, "Why was your door open?" He didn't receive a response from Sullivan, but he didn't need one.

Sullivan was dressed head to toe in his service dress blue uniform; he was even wearing the blue dress shirt underneath since it was winter instead of the white dress shirt for the summer. His face was once again clean-shaven and he had even trimmed his hair. He looked as sharp as a rookie.

"Going somewhere?"

Sullivan was finishing cuffing his jacket sleeve as he answered with a simply joyful, "Yep."

Bobby glanced around the room then back to Sullivan. Unlike yesterday, the house was spotless, orderly, and all the important things were lined up neatly in a roll on the coffee table in front of him. There was a living will and right next to it was a handwritten note that he didn't have to read to know what it was. A suicide note.

"How do I look, Goren?"

Bobby stood staring at the man before he let his eyes flicker over him from his head to his feet. He had even shined his shoes.

"I want to thank you, for yesterday."

Bobby looked back into his eyes and shook his head. He didn't know what Sullivan was thanking him for.

Sullivan smiled at him as he tapped the gun that was in the holster. "You could imagine my surprise when I grabbed my gun and…it was empty."

It didn't fit. To Bobby it was obvious that Sullivan was still planning on killing himself, so why was he thanking him. He had still yet to speak, but it seemed that Sullivan didn't care nor mind as he kept talking.

"When you saw me, I was scared and desperate. Searching for answers that were just too big. After I pulled the trigger and nothing happened, it occurred to me that I had nothing to be afraid of. Do you know why, Goren? I was born into sin then washed clean with the blood of Christ…all before I was a month old. They baptized me before I had the ability to choose. I didn't choose to have this guilt. I didn't choose my faith. I don't want this…I don't want to hate God, but that…I choose that. I choose to hate Him. And with hating Him, I finally took back my control. This is my choice."

Bobby glared up at Sullivan as he felt the hope for the man slipping away. This was only going to end bad. "I don't think it's God you hate, Sullivan, not entirely."

Sullivan actually smiled wider. The man was utterly content with what he was planning on doing. It was a sharp contrast to the broken man he had seen the day before. He wasn't going to kill himself with a bottle of whiskey in hand while he cried until he squeezed the trigger. No, he had stopped that attempt when he emptied his gun. His actions hadn't completely deterred Sullivan, instead, it only made it easier for him to accept his decision, it had harden his resolve. Today, he was going to go out like this, dressed in his blues and completely of sane mind.

Bobby knew then that it didn't matter what he said to the man it wasn't going to be enough. Sullivan was going to kill himself, it was just a matter of when and where.

"You're right," Sullivan told him as he pulled the nickel plated Colt .45 pistol from the holster, "but I hate God too, probably more than I hate myself. My parents, I know that they wanted what was best for me, but they should've let it be my decision. What gave them the right to decide my own faith, my own beliefs…It's personal. That's between me, God, and the Devil. And the Devil won. He…_won_," he said again as his shook with anger and disgust.

Bobby, for the first time in a very long time, was at a lose of words. If Sullivan survived this day, it would be a miracle. It would be by the grace of God; a God the Bobby himself believed to be anything but full of grace. He knew by Sullivan's personnel file that he had no one. No wife, ex-wife, kids, or parents. His only sister had died years ago in a motorcycle accident when she was only seventeen years old. Sullivan only had himself and the job. Now Sullivan only had himself, and he didn't even want that.

"Sully, c'mon man, I-I thought we were gonna talk."

Sullivan sat down heavily in the chair and leaned back; his arms draped loosely over the sides of the chair. He then peered up at him as he smiled slightly. "No, I just asked you here to thank you for making me see that this is…It's nothing to be afraid of. It's a part of life; it's my life. It has to end some time, right, so why not be in change of when and how? Why leave it up to God to determine when it's my time to go?" he told him a second before he brought the gun up to the right side of his head.

Bobby moved forward but it was too late. The bang only last a second but it rippled through his body and echoed through the house and his ears. Inches away from the chair, he stood frozen and numb as he stared down at the now lifeless body of Lance Sullivan. Blood gushed from the bullet hole then ran down his hanging left arm to the floor. The Colt .45 was on his lap, having fallen there when the grip on the gun eased as the arm went dead.

Closing his eyes, he covered his mouth and breathed out deeply. He couldn't stop him. He couldn't even think of what to say to the guy, no words of reason, no empathy…nothing. He didn't know what happened. He had accepted what Sullivan was going to do, and he let him do it.

Fear gripped him as he felt that it was his fault. His words had failed him when he needed them the most. That fear was going to tear him apart.

His hands started shaking but it wasn't from grief. He was getting angry and he was starting to shake from the growing intensity of it. Afraid that his actions would contaminate the scene, he quickly turned away.

Bobby pulled out his cell phone as he hurried out the front door. As he closed the door behind him, he looked around at the nice, middle class neighborhood and the array of Christmas lights that decorated the street.

After he made a quick call to the department, he went back inside. Going over to the coffee table and not taking another glance at the dead body in the chair, Bobby quickly read the suicide note. Dropping his head after he had read it all twice, he breathed out deeply before straightening and then going back outside.

Bobby opened his passenger door and opened the glove box. He took the pack of cigarettes out but didn't take one out. He couldn't stop the flow of heat through his body as he paced in front of his car, turning the pack over and over in his hands until they eventually clenched, balling into fists. Feeling the anger boil in his chest, he erupted. "That son-of-a-bitch," he yelled an instant before he pounded his fists into the hood of his car.

He threw the crumbled pack into the backseat of his car before slamming the passenger door shut. Sitting on the hood of his car, he stared inside Sullivan's garage at the damaged truck that was still sitting in it. Burying his head in his hands, he kept hearing Sullivan's last words reply over and over in his head until sirens cut through the static fog and ringing in his ears from the constant echo of the gunshot.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Dropping his hands away from his face, Bobby looked up and saw Logan standing next to him. That was when he looked around and noticed the activity around the house. Stepping out of the coroner's van was Brenda. She caught his eyes and gave him a tight smile before disappearing into the house.

"I got you some coffee," Logan told him as he shoved a tall cup from the coffee shop that was down the street into his hands. "It'll warm you up. I can feel your cold skin through your coat."

Bobby took a sip of the coffee; closing his eyes, he let the heat develop his whole body.

"So, what happened?"

Bobby shook his head before he took another drink of the hot coffee. He kept his eyes down, on the snowy driveway, and away from the eyes of his partner. "I didn't know what to say to him."

"I don't think any of us would have known what to say."

Rubbing a hand over his forehead, he felt the guilt and pain once again clench his heart and mind. "You don't understand, I've always been able to talk to someone, to-to get them to think about what they're doing…to stop them. I usually know exactly what to say to talk someone out of killing either themselves or someone else, and this time…I had no idea. Nothing would come to me. I just stood there and listened. I let him do it. It's my fault."

"Hey," Logan pushed him hard on the shoulder, making him stare up at him. "He's the one that pulled the trigger; he's the selfish coward who took the easy way out…."

"A selfish cow--…a selfish coward!" he suddenly snapped at Logan. "Do you know how much strength it takes to actually go through with something like that? I didn't see a selfish man, I saw a man who was strong enough to admit when he was beat and that he had done such a horrible thing that he was actually so content and comfortable with death that he didn't even blink when he pulled the fucking trigger!"

Logan didn't know what to say as he stared at him with his mouth slightly agape. Bobby looked around and realized that his partner wasn't the only one staring at him with the same shocked and perplexed expressions. Taking a deep breath, he realized that he had overreacted and had lost his temper in the wrong place at exactly the wrong damn time.

Coming up behind him had been Lieutenant Williams and she was also staring at him as she shoved her hands further down into her black furry overcoat. "I was going to ask you what went down here today, but with what you just shouted all the way down the street, I don't have to. I just hope you get a lock on that mouth of yours before the vultures start circling."

Bobby took a couple more deep breaths as he eyed the woman before giving a nod that he understand. The last thing the department needed was to do damage control after one of their detective went off in front of a brigade of reporters.

"Oh," she said before she walked away from him. Reaching into her black purse that was slung over her shoulder, she produced a folded stack of papers and handed them to him. "Your search warrant was approved, but now, as it were, we don't need it."

Watching as she went up the walk and then into the house, Bobby unfolded the papers and read them over. Looking over at Logan, he breathed out deeply and ran a hand over his face. "Logan, I…uh, I didn't mean to snap at you."

Logan, being the kind of man he was, just shrugged and shook it off saying, "Don't worry 'bout it. You're not the first partner I've had who's gone off on me. Besides, I know you're angry with yourself, not with me. It's not your fault, Goren. Even if you had stopped him then, he would have done it later."

Nodding, but still not ready to forgive himself just yet, he told him, "Yeah, I know. I saw that in him. I…I thought, if he survived today, it would have been a miracle." Shaking his head and still hearing the echoing gun blast, he whispered quietly, "Number three and counting."

The snow started to fall as the black body bag was carried from the house. All the reporters were getting pictures of was the bag and all they could think of when they looked at it was that it contained a dead body.

Bobby was the only one who knew truly what it contained. He knew that Sullivan was lying in there not completely naked and drenched in blood, but wearing his uniform, shined shoes, and covered on the entire left side by blood. All that would be in the papers was prominent cop commits suicide or maybe cop who tragically killed a fourteen year old boy commits suicide. Either way it spilled out into the press, the community as well as the department was going to be in an uproar.

Bobby shook his head as he leaned back against the driver side door as the reporters tried to storm the barricade that separated them from the crime scene.

_Cop kills kid, cop kills himself, and then…_

"Detective Goren!" one of them, a man, shouted his way. "What can you tell us?"

"You were the one who reported the suicide," a woman's voice overlapped the man. "What did Detective Sullivan say to you?"

"Detective, is it true that Detective Sullivan committed suicide because he was fired by the department because he's under investigation for murder?"

…_the vultures feast on the remains._

Ignoring the questions, Bobby opened the door and got into his car. Turning it on, and feeling the heat warming his body, he sighed and closed his eyes.

* * *

Yesterday they had made little progress. The cops on Staten Island were very territorial and the officers at the 124th were anything but cooperative. As they walked up the steps to the 128th Precinct she hoped that today would be different. She could almost feel it as Copeland held the door open for her; they were going to get a lead. Someone was going to talk.

The department was a madhouse the minute they walked it, and it wasn't from the usual hustle and bustle of every day police work. She had spotted the news reporters camped out outside and inside reflected their presence. It looked like the department could at any moment go on full alter and lock the place down.

"What's going on?" Copeland asked the morning watch sergeant who was behind the desk.

The woman looked up at them, and at seeing their badges, she told them, "A detective committed suicide this morning."

Her and Copeland shared a look before she asked, "Why?"

Shaking her head, she didn't let them know anymore as she told them, "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you, unless…They're not giving this to Major Case are they?"

"Not that we're aware of," Alex told her. Pulling out a sheet, she did tell her, "However, I do need to talk to a few of your officers."

"The day shift guys are all at roll call right not, I'll let the captain know and he can hold them back when he's done."

"No, that's okay," Alex told her. "We'll rather talk to them all separately, thanks."

As they turned to leave, the front doors to the department swung open and in walked Bobby, followed by Logan, and they were arguing.

"I'm not backing off my case," Bobby had told him as he turned around once he was in the building.

"You were there, Goren; you're a witness and if anything screws up and they want to say that he didn't actually kill himself, then that would make you a suspect. The Lieu isn't going to see past that and let you conduct the investigation."

"I don't care about what if's! I care about Terrence Hughes and finding out the truth of what happened to him. Once you get the evidence from Sullivan's house, I'm going to be the one following up on it!"

"Hey!"

Everyone turned to be staring at the watch sergeant. She was staring hard at Bobby and Logan as she gestured around the open floor, "What does this look like to you two? A boxing ring? There are no sparing matches in the lobby. If you two want to fight, take it either upstairs or to the gym. Got it."

Logan looked at Bobby and shook his head before storming up the steps and out of sight. Bobby sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face before looking around the floor. When he saw her, he nearly froze with shock before the guilt crept into his eyes. Turning away from her, he hurried up the steps and followed behind Logan to the third floor that housed the Homicide unit.

"Wow, Goren can be pretty passionate, intense."

Alex glanced up at Copeland as she told him, "If you think that was passion and intense, you should see him in the interrogation room."

Looking down at her, he smiled a little as he told her, "C'mon, I'll buy breakfast while we come up with a strategy for cornering unsuspected officers and asking if they were on the take for the Connelly family."

Alex had to smile and shake her head at that, Copeland wasn't the kind of guy to sugar coat anything. He was as straight-forward and hard as the come. She had to admit, she liked that about him.

* * *

Bobby was being kept away from the suicide of Lance Sullivan; the Lieu wouldn't even let him go to the autopsy, which he was okay with. It wasn't like he had to go anyway. He knew what the body looked like. He knew what had killed him and how and why. It was officially his day off, but he didn't go home as he was ordered to by Williams. Instead, he stayed and went over the Terrence Hughes case, thinking that he would soon have to go to Mrs. Hughes and tell her who killed her son.

He was preparing for the moment he had to knock on her door and tell her that they found the guy, that he was a cop and not only that but the cop that was investigating the case. There were some things he really hated about the job, this was one of them. Yet, he did it because had to, and because he knew that the families deserved the truth and he would always give them that, no matter how painful it was for him to do just that.

It wasn't until almost one o'clock when they got the results back from forensics. Logan walked into the room with the file in hand; he was tapping it on his palm and eyeing him with great concern and distress.

Bobby sat up straight in his chair and watched as he sat heavily across from him and handed him the file. He took it and immediately flipped it open. Staring at the words, he was taken back by what he read. "He didn't do it."

"He didn't do it," Logan repeated back. "There was no blood found on his truck, no hair, nothing that says he hit that kid. What made that damage to the truck was a blunt object, like a baseball bat." He shook his head as he asked him, "Why confess if he didn't do it? I don't get it."

Bobby rubbed at his temple while he thought about it. Something had been going on with Sullivan. He didn't just decide one day to quit his job and kill himself while confessing to a crime that he didn't even commit. "Because…he was trying to hide the real reason. A hit-and-run that looked nearly impossible to solve with no motive, no witnesses…Not only would it be the perfect out, but he could also bring closure to a family who would never have one."

Logan seemed not only impressed with that explanation, but it looked like he was also accepting it, "So, Sullivan was running scared for months, already planning on offing himself, but he needed to find a way to do it justice. He found that when he pulled this case. I've got to admit, it makes sense and it fits his behavior."

"Yeah, it does. Now all we have to do is find the real reason he did this."

Logan leaned forward on his desk as he asked him, "Why? Why not just let this one be?"

That nearly shocked him; Bobby couldn't believe that Logan, his partner, just asked him that question. "Because a killer is still out there. Terrence Hughes' mother deserves the truth, not this," he held up the suicide note that Sullivan had written. "Not a lie that a desperate man used to justify his own death."

"Okay," Logan said after a soft sigh. "I get it. What'd we do now? We're back to square one."

Bobby shook his head at him. "It's not your case, Logan, and I'm not at square one." He stood and started gathering the files together.

Logan went to say something to him when Rivers called from across the room.

"Hey, Goren, turn on the television, channel two!"

Bobby looked over at Rivers, confused, before he went over to the television in the corner of the room and turned it on. It was already programmed to channel two and there, on the screen, was him outside of Lance Sullivan's house. Turning up the volume, he shook his head at what the female reporter was saying.

"…from a source inside the 128th Precinct. Detective Sullivan, a eleven year veteran with the Staten Island Police Department, was under investigation for the hit-and-run of fourteen year old Terrence Hughes. It was confirmed in his suicide note that he was in fact responsible for the young teens death."

"Oh, shit."

Bobby glanced over his shoulder as Logan stopped behind him. "You can say that again," he said as he caught a very pissed off looking Lieutenant Williams stalking toward them. Well, she was coming right toward him.

"Goren, my office, now."

Bobby handed the remote off to Logan as he followed her to her office. This wasn't going to be good, not at all.

As soon as the door was closed, she turned to him. "A source inside this department leaked information to the press."

"It wasn't me," he quickly assured her.

"I know that, Detective. Believe me, if I thought it was you, you still wouldn't be in this building."

"And I have no idea who it was. I had no idea this was even going on."

Williams eyed him before breathing out hard and leaning back against her desk. "What did forensics say?"

Bobby closed his eyes and shook his head. Opening them, he told her, "He didn't do it. I don't know why he confessed…Only, I see it as a way out for him."

"A way out of what?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out, just as I'm going to find out who actually hit that kid."

Williams seemed surprised at that, but she didn't comment on it. "I'm going to have to do a lot of damage control on this. I need your help to clear this up as soon as possible."

"I have footage from the night Terrence was killed from the Staten Island ferry. He was in the city; I have him coming back here shortly before his time of death with a girl, possibly his girlfriend."

"You need to talk to his family."

"I was on my there when I heard the news."

She actually looked sympathetic as she told him, "Okay, and good luck. I have a feeling with this case you're going to need a lot of it."

Bobby left the office and headed by Logan, out of the squad room.

"Where are you going?"

Glancing back at Logan, Bobby told him, "To pay Mrs. Hughes a visit."

* * *

"We know you worked on both of his casino boats."

Officer Lipinski pulled out his wallet to pay for his take-out when the cashier told him it was on the house. Lewinsky politely thanked the woman before grabbing the bag that held his lunch and the large drink and headed out of the restaurant. "Yeah, I did," he told her as he pushed open the door and didn't bother to hold it for them.

"That's moonlighting, Officer, and it could get you into serious trouble," Copeland told him as they started following Lipinski to his patrol car.

"Look, working private security on my off time…It's nothing new. A lot of cops, especially here, take in some extra hours somewhere working security. And before you say it, my boss already knows. This isn't the city, guys. It's a whole different world here, everyone has their hands in someone else's pie, always."

"And just how far are you willing to go to keep your hand in that pie of yours," Alex asked, taking what the officer told her as a huge help even though he didn't know it.

"Not murder," he told her as he opened up the door. "But that's just me. Listen, guys, the Connelly's were mixed up with all kinds of people, and Mr. Connelly owned two casino boats on an island housing most of the mob. If you want someone to blame for their deaths, look there, and stop hounding the cops who're just doing their jobs." Getting into his car, Lipinski quickly pulled out of his parking space before taking off down the road.

"Everyone has their hands in someone else's pie, how eloquently put. I think he may be right."

Copeland nodded in agreement. "He's trying to steer us away from them with pointing us toward the mob."

"And I doubt the mob did it. In the city, yes, but not here. If they wanted Connelly, they would have tried buying him out first, and they would have went after him solely, made him the target. Not his wife."

"Not only that, but the mob would have disposed of the bodies, not leave them like that. And they most definitely wouldn't have tried to stage the crime scene."

Alex shook her head as they headed for the SUV.

"I can't believe we're actually looking at cops for this." Copeland looked over at her and smiled. "My first case with Major Case. I never saw this one coming, not by a long shot."

"Yeah, well, I've been here before; it's not fun. One of the officers we suspected of murder and robbery a few years ago killed himself in our squad room."

"Why?"

"Oh, it was the whole 'death before dishonor' thing that the group adopted for themselves." Getting into the SUV, she took the file and flipped it open. "Next on our list is Officer Brian _Gabriele_. Patrol 1-2-8 Charlie Romeo."

"It sounds like you know Officer Gabriele."

Alex handed the file to him as she pulled out onto the street. "I do. He was the responding officer to the Connelly's house on the night they died."

* * *

Mrs. Hughes wasn't the one to answer the door for him, instead, the door cracked open barely and a little girl who was no more than three feet tall stared up wide at him. Bobby smiled down at Heaven, Terrence's little sister, as he unclipped his shield. Holding it down for her to see, he greeted her, "Hello, I'm Detective Goren. Is your mom home?"

Heaven eyed the badge and then looked up at him still unsure of what to do.

Sensing her unease, he knelt down to be eye level with the girl. "I talked to your mom yesterday. She said your name's Heaven. Mine's Bobby."

Heaven leaned a little on the door as she finally smiled at him. "Momma tol' me you were nice."

"Is she here?"

Heaven nodded but still didn't let him in. "She's inna shower. She been cryin'."

Bobby winced in guilt as he closed his eyes. "Did, um…Was she watching anything when she was crying? Was the TV on?"

She nodded her head as her hands gripped the door a little tighter. "It was onna news. I saw my brother on it."

Giving the little girl a smile, he nodded a little as he pushed down the pain in his chest. To see and hear that on the news, whether it was the truth or not, it had to be painful for Mrs. Hughes; he looked at Heaven again as he asked, "I want to make sure your mommy is okay. Can I do that? Can I come in?"

Nodding, she moved back away from the door and let him in. "I can, um, I can go get 'er for you," she told him excitedly.

"Thank you, Heaven. I appreciate that," he told the little girl before she smiled wide at him and then ran off down the hallway.

Bobby shut the door behind him as he looked around the living room. The television was now off and there didn't seem to be any signs of distress in the house. No bottles of alcohol or ashtrays overflowing with cigarettes. People grieved in many different ways. He had yet to see what Mrs. Hughes did to try and ease all her pain. Or, maybe he did as he saw Heaven storm back into the room.

"She says for, um, for you to wait 'ere. She's getting ready."

Walking further into the house, Bobby glanced into the entrance to the kitchen. "I thought I smelt cookies. Were you baking?"

Heaven smiled wide up and him before grabbing his hand. "I was 'elpin' momma. Woul', um, woul' you like one?"

Laughing at the enthusiasm of the little girl, Bobby nodded, "Yeah, thanks. I would love one. How 'bout some milk to go with those cookies."

"The cups 're over the sink," she told him as she climbed onto a stool at the kitchen island. She picked up the spatula and took a couple of baked cookies off the tray and placed them on the plates that were already on the table. "Yum, chocolate chip!"

Bobby poured them both a glass and sat on a stool across from the girl. "Do you and your mom bake a lot?"

She nodded as she handed him a plate with two cookies on it. "Alla time. Now that it winner, we bake a lotta cookies."

"That's _winter_, baby, not winner," Mrs. Hughes corrected her daughter as she came into the kitchen.

Bobby immediately stood. "Mrs. Hughes…"

"You can sit, Detective," she told him as she took the spatula away from Heaven. "Why don't you go play in your room while I talk to the detective, sweetie."

"But my cookies," Heaven whined.

"You can take your cookies with you, but not the milk."

Heaven smiled at her mother as she grabbed the plate and headed off out of the kitchen. "Thank you, 'tective Bobby for elpin' me."

Once Heaven was out of the room, Bobby said, "I hope you don't mind me being here."

"No, it's fine. I was expecting you sometime today."

"She's adorable; you must be proud."

Mrs. Hughes shined at the compliment about her daughter. "I am. It was nice of you, having cookies with her. She misses her brother deeply. He used to do that, eat cookies with her."

Bobby watched as she started to clean the kitchen while they talked. He took a bit out of the cookie and nearly hummed in pleasure. "These are amazing, Mrs. Hughes."

Mrs. Hughes smiled at him as she wiped the counter clean of flour that had missed the bowl. "They're my special recipe." After a moment, she said, "So, I know you're here to tell me about that detective. The one that committed suicide."

Bobby finished off the milk before he stood and went to put it in the sink. Crossing his arms, he nodded as he looked at Mrs. Hughes. "I am, but….It's not what you think. Mrs. Hughes, the evidence, it says that Detective Sullivan…He, uh…he wasn't the one that hit your son."

Mrs. Hughes took that in as she began to shake. Unlike yesterday, she didn't breakdown. Instead, she said simply, "Oh. I thought, the news said he confessed."

Bobby nodded as he walked toward her and directed her to the table so they both could sit down. He sat next to her at the round table instead of across from her like he had yesterday. "I know what the news said, and I know what Sullivan's suicide note said, but…Mrs. Hughes, I looked at the evidence myself. There was nothing linking him to your son's death. He staged it. He used a baseball bat to beat in the hood of his car, and to damage the front grill, but…there was an, uh, an imprint left on your son's body from the license plate on the front of the truck that hit him. It didn't match the personalized plate that was on Sullivan's truck."

"Why then? Why confess?"

Bobby took a moment to get it straight in his head as he eyed the floor. "I don't know. All I can think of is that…Detective Sullivan had been in a bad place for a long time. This seemed like an out for him. This type of crime, a hit-and-run, they're hard to solve a lot of the time. He figured…I think he was thinking about giving you closure, even if it was the wrong kind."

Mrs. Hughes sat in silence for a long time as she thought about that. Sighing in disbelief, she shook her head, "And I thought he didn't care." Looking at him, she asked, "You're not just trying to get him off are you?"

Bobby looked up at the woman and shook his head. "Believe me, I'm not trying to protect him. If he was guilty, I would be here telling you exactly that. He's not."

"Then, that means the person who did it is still out there."

Bobby nodded as he saw the tears once again slip down her face. Taking the handkerchief out of his breast pocket, he handed it to her. "I'm sorry. I know how much you want answers…I apologize for not giving you any."

Mrs. Hughes reached out and gripped his hand. "I may hate it, and I'm not going to lie to you, it hurts. But I'm glad you're not giving me the wrong ones, Detective. I was starting to think that I can get over this now that I know. Now that I can put a face to the faceless man who took my son away. When I thought it was that detective, I was crushed and angry. He stood right here in my house and saw me go to pieces and didn't even have the guts to tell me the truth. Now, now I don't know what to think. He used my boy's death as an excuse to his own death. The things men do…"

She didn't finish but Bobby had to agree. It was the things men did some times that left them all wondering why.

"My husband used to say that some sins should be left unsaid, unnoticed, and un-forgiven."

Bobby lifted his deeply troubled eyes and caught the determined eyes of the grieving mother.

"I don't want the sins of the person who took my son away to end up like that. I want to know. I want them to know that I know. Can you understand that?"

Bobby swallowed hard as he nodded. "I'll get the person responsible. I promise you that." And that brought him to his next question. He was about to give her more questions and still no answers. "Mrs. Hughes," he said as he put his binder up on the table and opened it. Pulling out the photo of the screen cap from the security footage, he handed her the photo. "This was taken on the night Terrence was killed. He had been in the city, with a girl."

Mrs. Hughes eyed the photo as more tears welled in her eyes. "He lied to me?"

Bobby cleared his throat as he told her, "I don't think he wanted to, but sometimes it's hard to tell parents everything. I know I didn't tell my mother about every girl I was with."

"But we had a rule, no secrets. He told me about all the other girls."

"She different," Bobby told her gently. "I have a feeling that she was very special to him." He watched as she ran her fingertips over the photograph as he talked. "Have you seen her before?"

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "Never. She looks beautiful."

Bobby smiled at her as he asked, "Do you know of any reason why your son wouldn't tell you about her?"

She shook her head but didn't say anything. She was still captivated by the last photo she would ever have of her son.

He knew the answer to the next question before he asked it; however, it had to be asked. "Could it be because she's white?"

Mrs. Hughes lifted her eyes to his as she told him, "I never gave my son a reason to ever think that. There are no prejudices in this house. I told him as long as he was happy, and she was good for him, I'll be happy for him."

"Momma, I wan' more cookies!" Heaven announced as she skipped into the kitchen.

Bobby sat up straight in the chair as he looked over at the little girl. Turning back to Mrs. Hughes, he thanked her before he took the photograph from her shaking hands. "If you want a copy, I can get one for you, but only after the investigation is over."

"I'll like that," she told him as she also stood.

Bobby smiled at her as he backed away to leave. "I'll talk to you later, Mrs. Hughes."

"Thank you, Detective."

"It's Bobby…You can call me, Bobby."

Mrs. Hughes smiled at him as she nodded her gratitude. "Thank you, Bobby."

"Goodbye, Bobby! Want a cookie to go?" Heaven asked as she took one off the table and handed it to him.

Bobby smiled as he took it. "Thanks. Take care, Heaven…Mrs. Hughes," he told her before he once again showed himself out of the house.

Stepping out into the cold afternoon air, he buttoned up his coat as he made his way to his car. He didn't know why but visiting that woman had unsettled him. She was a strong woman, and such a caring mother that it nearly tore his heart out having to tell her that the man that the news said killed her son wasn't the guy. That they were wrong. She had begun the healing process for nothing.

Then her kindness to him; her understanding and sympathy. He was used to families getting angry at him, hating him, and even blaming him for things that were not his fault. For Mrs. Hughes to give him none of that had confused him. People hated cops, but it seemed like she didn't hate him. She almost seemed comfortable with him, complacent and familiar. She was responding to him like a mother would to her own son.

Stopping at his car, he looked back at the house and smiled a little. She was mothering him. And he figured as he got into his car, that it was her way of easing the pain.

* * *

He was starving. The cookies at Mrs. Hughes house had been the only thing he had eaten all day. Stopping at the diner a block from the department, he had bypassed the lunch crowd by an hour and the place was nearly empty as he sat down at the counter.

"Good afternoon, Detective," the waitress greeted him as she stepped up to the counter. "Your usual?"

Bobby had only been on the island for two months and he already had his usual. "Yes, please."

Smiling at him, she wrote down his order before taking a coffee cup and placing it in front of him. Going over to the window that looked into the kitchen, she spoke to Carl the cook and handed him the order slip before going over to the coffee pot. Grabbing the regular, caffeinated coffee, she walked back over to him and poured him a cup. "Your food will be ready soon; Carl started fixing your order when he saw you walk through the door."

"Did I mention that I love the service here?"

She smiled wider at him as the door chimed, indicating that someone else had walked in.

A man slid onto the stool next to him at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee and nothing else.

Bobby looked the man over before flipping the paper he picked up over and then opened it to the sports page. He sipped on the coffee before stirring in a little cream as he got caught up on the games.

"You like sports?"

Bobby looked over at the man as he wondered why he was talking to him. "Yeah."

"You bet on any of them?"

Shaking his head, Bobby told him, "I don't gamble."

"That's not what I heard. And after seeing the security footage from the casino boat you were on the other day, I think I know differently too."

Tensing, Bobby turned back to observing the man. He looked him over as he leaned against the side of the counter. The man was tall, about his height, thin, and he wore a grey pinstriped suit and white shirt and blue tie. His brown hair was cut short, nearly military crew cut, but he didn't wear a gun. Or at least, he didn't have his gun on him. "You're not a cop."

"Very good, Detective Goren. You're right, I'm not a cop." The man pulled out his ID and showed it to him. "I'm Pat Garrison with Internal Affairs."

Bobby eyed the ID before eyeing the man. "What does IA want with me?"

"To talk."

"I'm eating."

Garrison shrugged as he finished off the coffee. "Get it to go."

The way he said that Bobby knew that he had no other option. Turning around, he gestured for the waitress to come over to him. "Can I get it to go, please. Oh, and I'll like another cup of coffee to go as well, thank you."

It wasn't long before he was being escorted into an interview/interrogation room in the Internal Affairs Bureau that was only a few blocks from the precinct. Bobby sipped on the coffee as he unwrapped his grilled Italian Panini and took a bite.

Garrison sat across from him and watched him. "Hungry?"

"Starving. I haven't eaten all day. So, what is this about anyway?"

Garrison opened the file that he brought into the room with him. "It's about you, Detective Goren, and what you've been getting yourself into since coming to Staten Island."

Bobby continued to eye the guy as he quickly ate his meal. "Well, I don't know what you're talking about because I haven't gotten myself into anything except my cases."

Garrison smiled a smug smile at him that would have twisted his gut if he wasn't trying to fill it. "You were gambling on duty."

"It was for the case. I had a hunch that the casino was getting rid of the dirty money it had, and I had to get some of it to track. Major Case should start getting results by tomorrow on it."

"They got all your winnings?"

"All three-thousand, five hundred dollars of it."

"Wow, you won big."

Bobby shook his head as he told him, "They were giving it away. I barely played and I won. And it wasn't just me."

"Right, your partner Detective Michael Logan was with you. How much did he win?"

"He won a thousand. That was part of the three thousand I gave to Major Case. It's all accounted for," Bobby once again told him as he finished his food. Balling the wrapper up, he tossed it into the trash before taking a hefty drink from the coffee. "I have receipts."

Garrison only nodded as he asked, "How's your car window? I saw it was fixed."

Bobby leaned on the table as he nodded. "Yeah, a buddy of mine gave me a deal. Why is that an issue for you? It was an accident."

"One that wasn't reported. Neither was a sobriety test."

"That's because I didn't need one. I wasn't drinking," he said a little too defensively. Bobby was starting to wonder why exactly he was there. He knew that he had done nothing wrong.

"And now the suicide of Detective Lance Sullivan. You were a witness."

Bobby sipped on the coffee before he answered. "He called me. I went to his house, and…he killed himself in front of me. It's all in the report."

"A report that your partner wrote up, is that right?"

Bobby only nodded.

Garrison smiled back at him as he picked another file up and opened it. "You were demoted and um, banished here, were you not?"

"I was," Bobby agreed as the frustration and guilt was creeping up in him. What was going on? "What's this about?"

"We're getting there, Detective. You used to be a patient man, what happened?"

Bobby stilled at that as the narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

Garrison shrugged innocently. "You used to have a spotless record with only a few indiscretions here and there. A few insubordinate conduct remarks, a few marks in your jacket, but nothing like this. It seemed like once you got here, you started to slip. I received a report anonymously about the incident you had in a bar with Paul Savoie. And, once again, it was officially unreported. It seems like someone is going through a lot of trouble protecting you."

Bobby felt his blood drain as he realized where this was going. "I'm not dirty."

Garrison sat the file down and leaned back in the chair. "Then you can explain to me what is happening here."

Bobby rubbed at the back of his neck as he stared at the files in front of the IA officer. "I could if I knew what was happening here."

Garrison took out a group of photos and tossed them across the table. They were pictures of him. A few were from the security footage at the casino, a couple were from a distance taken by a camera, and then there was one of him coming out of the bar with Logan.

Staring at the pictures of himself, he felt all his control being stripped away. What was going on here? "Who took those?"

"I did."

Bobby glanced up at him and frowned. "You were following me?"

"I'm IA; it's what I do. You're not the first corrupt cop I've investigated."

"I'm not a corrupt cop," Bobby snapped as he pushed away from the table and started pacing. He was being set up, but by who and why?

"It appears that way, doesn't it? All this evidence against you. Your drinking, your demotion, your banishment here…your connection to Sullivan and to the bar that is a known hangout for the mob. It doesn't look good for you, does it, Detective?"

Bobby stopped as the looked down at the photos. Could it be Logan? Would his own partner be setting him up? _No, no_…He shook his head. Logan could be just as guilty in this as he was, if IA was looking at him too.

"We've been aware of a circle of cops, of corrupt cops, on the island for years. However, we have never been able to get enough evidence or catch them in the act. They're smart, and they have a lot of backing. We believe that they have connections with the mob, politicians…wealthy entrepreneurs."

Bobby shifted his eyes up to Garrison at that. _The Connelly's?_

"We can't get close. A highly uncover operation has presented itself to us, a way to get in deep with these guys and to everyone involved."

Bobby blinked back as it suddenly clicked in his head. "You mean me? What…what if I don't want to get in the middle of this?"

"Detective, you put yourself in the middle of this. See, Lance Sullivan was one of the cops that we suspected of being in this circle. We've been investigating him, watching him, for over eight months. He's part of this, we know he is." He stood and leaned forward on the table. "How does it look to the department, to us, and to these other dirty cops when they see that you visited Sullivan the day before and then the day of his suicide. You were there, you talked to him before he blew his brains out. He could have told you anything."

Bobby, for the first time in his life, felt himself being cornered in an interrogation room. This must have been what the people felt like when you got them; when he had them in that moment where it clicked and it came into light that they were beat. Checkmate. "I'm not dirty," he told him once again.

Garrison nodded at him. "I know you're not. But on paper I can make you looked as dirty as you need to be to be taken in by these guys. I want you for my operation."

Bobby looked back down at the table as he thought about what all of this could mean.

"I'm going to go refill my cup of coffee, and you're going to think about this. When I came back, I want an answer from you, Detective." Garrison grabbed the empty cup and left.

Bobby didn't take his eyes off the "evidence" they had against him that was spread all over the table. It seemed like everything that had happened to him was coming together for this. His suspension, demotion, his anger issues, the accident with his car…It was all connecting. They could use it all to his advantage to present the persona that he was a troubled cop, a desperate cop, and a cop who might not be solely on the right side of the law. If IAB had seen it that way, and took it seriously for them to even be investigating him, then who else was looking at him that same way?

He started to pace as he went over everything in his head.

Had Sullivan actually thought he might have been falling into that dark world? That he was venturing further and further into that dark, desperate, and corrupt life of a good cop gone bad? It was possible, he had let Sullivan pour him a glass of whiskey while he was on duty, and he had actually drunk it. Was he so close to that edge that he was even blinding himself from the truth?

He was a desperate man all right. There was a yearning in him, a desperation that if tempted correctly, and offered the right payout, he would concede. It wasn't for money, or women, or alcohol, or drugs, or anything illegal. It was for one woman, and it was for one job. He wanted to get back to Major Case, and he wanted Alex. That was what drove his anger, drove his inhibitions, and what drove him to be so blinded them.

And here was an opportunity.

Opportunities like this one didn't come around too often. Not only did he have a chance to take down an entire organization of corrupt cops and those who supported them, but he also had a chance to redeem himself. If he succeeded, maybe he could get his old job back. He could get his first grade detective shield back. He could finally be with Alex again if not personally then at least professionally.

_Redemption._ Bobby gripped the top of the chair and leaned against it as he stared down at the table. That word summed up for him what this assignment could do for him. It could redeem him.

"So, Detective Goren," Garrison asked as he walked back into the room with a full cup of coffee. "Have you decided yet?"

Bobby looked up at the man. "If I do it, I want to bring someone else in on it."

Garrison didn't even look surprised as he asked, "Let me guess, your partner Detective Logan?"

Bobby smiled slightly. "What better man to help me with this than one who was banished here for slugging a city councilman. Plus, he knows these cops and these streets better than I do. And, I trust him."

Garrison looked skeptical at that but he didn't voice his concern. Instead, he sat down as he told him, "All right."

Bobby sat back down in the chair and leaned forward on the table as he gained his confidence and control back. "Also, I want to know what's in it for me."

Garrison was caught off-guard by that. "I thought that taking down bad cops would be satisfying enough."

Bobby didn't beat around the bush as he flat out told Garrison, "I want my old job back with Major Case. I want my gold shield back, and I want Detective Logan to get an opportunity to get off this island. If you can promise me that you'll try, and I mean actually really sit down and go to bat for us and try, then I'll do it. If not, then you're going to have to find another pawn in this game."

Garrison didn't know what to say to that. The IA officer sat staring at him for a long time, going over what he had told him as he leaned back in the chair. Suddenly, he stood and went over to the two-way glass and tapped on it. Seconds later the door opened and in walked none other than the Chief of Detectives.

Even though the chief was now in the room, it was still Garrison who sat back down across from him and spoke, "I think I can do that. Or, at least try."

Bobby eyed the chief as he said, "You must want me on this pretty bad."

"What can I say, Goren," the chief told him, "You're the best we got at this sort of thing, and you've done it before."

"Yes, I've taken cops down before, but never like this."

"I know it'll be hard, working for IA, and it'll be harder for you after this is over and if word gets out in the department."

Being a rat was one thing, but being a rat for Internal Affairs was a completely different ball game. If he just took down dirty cops as part of an investigation, then that was justified within the eyes of other cops. The case went where it went and he had to do what he had to do. Intentionally going out to take down cops for IA, despite the fact if they were dirty or not, according to other cops was wrong. Even a lot of the good cops didn't like an IA rat.

Taking a moment to really think it over about what it could mean for him, Bobby once again didn't hesitate to give a yes. It never mattered to him; a killer was a killer, wrong was wrong, and a bad cop was a bad cop. They didn't deserve the badge they carried. If he was going to be called a rat for the rest of his life because of it, then so be it. "I'll do it."

"Good," the chief told him. "Just don't let me down."

Bobby was certain he heard the 'or else' that followed just before the door shut as the chief left the room.

Garrison gathered up the papers into his folder as he stood. "If Logan agrees, I want the both of you to meet with me Monday to go over the game plan."

"Where and what time?"

"I haven't decided yet, but it'll be early so don't be late," Garrison said with a smile like what he just said was a joke; it was apparently one that only he got.

Bobby only looked at him as Garrison gathered all the files and photos up before tucking them under his arm. Picking up the cup of coffee, he smiled at him one last time before leaving the room.

He didn't move for a long time as he leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling.

TBC…


	8. There would be blood

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! Okay, I know this chapters isn't as long as the others, but it's just setting some more stuff up…like filling in some space before some serious stuff starts to go down. In case you all were wondering, this is probably going to be my longest story to date. I really wanted it to be a fitting end to the last two stories, and so I almost made this story in itself an epic. I have so much that I want to do with this story with a couple of different cases intertwining along with the personal lives of our favorite detectives, that it's going to take a while to get to the end. So, if you can all bear with me I will greatly appreciate the patience.

And if you haven't reviewed yet, please do so! I like getting comments and know what my readers think.

Enjoy!

* * *

The streets of Glen Oaks, Queens were beautiful. Snow covered the ground, Christmas lights and plastic figurines decorated the yards and houses, and as he pulled up in front of Elliot Stabler's house, he wasn't expecting what greeted him. The garage door was open with Elliot's truck backed into it and bundled up in his coat and carrying a box out of the house and into the bed of the truck was Elliot.

Bobby strolled up the walkway and stopped at the truck as he glanced in it to see what was lying in the flatbed; it was nearly full with boxes. "What's going on?"

Elliot turned and looked at him, his face red from the cold, or it could have been the anger. "I'm leaving," was all he said before he disappeared back into the house.

Bobby stood waiting for him to return, and when he did, he asked, "Why are you leaving?"

"Kathy told me to," Elliot told him as he threw a duffel bag onto the passenger seat. "She came home and we tried to talk, work things out, next thing I know, she's telling me to leave. She wants the house; she wants to live here, not at her mothers, and she can't be with me right now. I have no other choice."

Bobby couldn't believe it. Elliot and his wife had been together for so long, had kids, and she was ending it with him. He stepped back a little as he eyed the ground and then Elliot. "I'm sorry," and he truly meant that; he was sorry.

"Yeah, well, what can I do? She's my wife, and I love her and our children. If she wants them to be here, without me, then I'll give her that."

Bobby nodded in understanding. Elliot would do anything for his family, even if it was killing him. "So, I'm guessing dinner's off."

Elliot glared at him causing Bobby to smile a little. "How'd you guess that, Sherlock?"

Bobby tried to feel the ease of the teasing but his mood was becoming too dark. It didn't help that he could actually feel Elliot's pain of having to leave his family.. "Where're you staying?"

Elliot shrugged as he closed the back of this truck. "I don't know yet. Haven't thought about it." Looking over at him, he asked, "Wanna beer?"

"Love one, thanks," Bobby said as he watched as Elliot headed back inside the house.

"I'll be back in a minute," Elliot promised before he was gone again..

Bobby walked around to the porch while he took in the quiet neighborhood. Sitting on the steps, he closed his eyes as he listened to the silence. The day was starting to catch up to him, making him tired and once again depressed. In a way he was glad that dinner with Elliot's family had been cancelled, he wasn't sure he could have dealt with it even though he would have tried. Hearing it was cancelled due to the fact that Elliot's wife was kicking him out, well, that had shocked him. He had been excited for his friend when he had learned that his wife had moved back in, bringing the children with her, and that they were trying to work on their marriage. He had thought that if Elliot and his wife could salvage their marriage then maybe there was a chance for him and Alex.

Now, he didn't know what to think.

The door opened behind; opening his eyes, Bobby looked over his shoulder and took the offered beer as Elliot sat down next to him on the cold steps.

"To…um, aw fuck it," Elliot said before he clicked his bottle against his before taking a drink.

Bobby chuckled before he took a long drink. There was no truer words for him right then than that. Fuck it.

"So, I can only imagine how your day was. The press, it can be a beast.". Elliot was silent for a moment before asking, "It wasn't true, what they said?"

"No," Bobby told him before he took a sip. "I mean, they did get it right, but…the evidence cleared him. He lied in his suicide note."

"Why?"

Everyone had asked him that all day and he was frankly getting sick of trying to answer it. Bobby decide a cope-out on explaining to Elliot, he was too tired to care. He shrugged as he told him, "I don' know. Guess I have to wait and find out."

"But you talked to him. You were there?"

Feeling the cold air hit him, along with the cold beer mixing with his warm blood, Bobby shivered as he nodded. "I was there, but…he didn't want to talk. I was mostly there as a witness. He wanted me to see him do it."

"That's tough, man, sorry. How're you holding up?."

"I'm not dead." Bobby downed the rest of the beer as he looked over at Elliot for the first time since he sat down next to him. "I was thinking…If you want, you can always stay at my place until you figure it out."

Elliot lowered the beer bottle from his lips as he stared at him for a long moment. "You'll do that?"

Yes, he would, and Bobby couldn't quite believe it himself. His home was his sanctuary, but since Alex no longer shared a part of it with him, it was too empty. "Sure. That's what friends do…Isn't it?"

Elliot smiled at his awkward question as he nodded. "Yeah, its what we do." He turned his nearly empty beer bottle over in his hand, dumping the last of it out on the snow before asking, "What'd you have at your place that's edible?"

Bobby thought about it and after a couple of seconds of not coming up with anything, he told him, "Um, we can always order take-out?"

Elliot started laughing at him before saying, "Sounds good to me." He looked over at him again before shaking his head. "How did this happen?"

Bobby glanced at him before asking, "What?"

"I'm going to be your roommate. When in the hell did I start liking you this much?"

He couldn't help it, he started laughing. "If it makes you feel any better, I can't believe I asked you."

"No, that doesn't help." They both grew silent for a while before Elliot got up. "Want another one?"

Handing his empty bottle to him, Bobby told him, "Not here. I have plenty at home."

"Then let me put what I've got left in my truck and I'll follow you."

* * *

Bobby woke to the smell of coffee, alcohol, and cigarettes. His eyes blinked up at the ceiling where the fan was spinning around in circles. As he stared at the fan, he rubbed at his temples as they pounded with a familiar pain. He must have drank a lot last night, he didn't remember a thing after he left Elliot's house. His right leg was off the couch as his foot was firmly settled on the floor to steady his equilibrium.

"I see you're awake."

Bobby slid his hands down from his eyes and stared up at the man who was standing over him. Groaning, he told him, "Good morning."

"Do you have to work today?"

"No, I don't have to," Bobby told him without shaking his head; he was afraid if he moved it the rippling affect would be devastating to his brain.

"Thank God for that, you look like shit," Elliot teased him before moving away from him and out of sight. "I made coffee!"

Slowly getting to his feet, Bobby realized a number of things. He was nearly naked, wearing only his boxers, and his coffee table was littered with beer bottles, an almost empty bottle of Glenlivet, and the ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts. Rubbing a hand over his bare chest, he felt his lungs ache from all the cigarettes he must have smoked.

Elliot walked back into the living room with a bottle of water tucked under his arm and a cup of coffee in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other.

"Thanks" he told his friend as he took them from him. Gesturing to the table, he told him, "It looks like we had fun last night."

Elliot laughed as he told him, "You got wasted and wouldn't shut-up. Most of it was about Sullivan, you were really pissed off about it."

Bobby swallowed down the pills with the whole bottle of water. As he sat the empty water bottle on the table, he picked up the cup of coffee, taking a sip, and leaned back against the couch.

Elliot looked over at him and started laughing as he picked up the remote and turned on the television. He flipped through the channels before he settled on ESPN. "I was going to put it on the news, but I think you've had enough of that. I had to restrain you from kicking in your TV last night."

"Sorry, I can get, pretty angry. What happened with Sullivan…It's my fault," he admitted to him. Bobby closed his eyes as he tried to fight the emotions that were pushing at his control down.

"No, it's not. Bobby, we've been over this. You may not remember, but last night I convinced you that it wasn't your fault."

Bobby chuckled but the seriousness wasn't lost on him. "Yeah, what else did you convince me of."

"To call Alex."

Bobby's eyes snapped open as he stared over at him. "What?"

Elliot looked at him seriously before he smiled. "I'm not stupid. I just wanted to see that look on your face."

He was already hating Elliot living with him. Bobby closed his eyes as he propped his feet up on the coffee table. Last night, before he went to Elliot's house, he had wanted to keep driving and go to Rockaway. He should have went to Alex last night, but instead of being with her, he had went to Elliot's and then told him he could live with him. All because he didn't want to be alone and Elliot was a friend.

Rubbing at his left hand, he felt a jolt of pain through his hand, causing him to look down at it. It was bruising over the knuckles. Bobby stared at his hand as he tried to remember how that happened. With not remembering, he suddenly stood with a groan as his body protested the movement, he headed for his bedroom. He needed to start feeling better and fast.

Thirty minutes later, he stepped out of the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror. He needed a shave and more sleep but he didn't do either. Leaving the bathroom, he quickly dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and a button down flannel, and then went into the kitchen.

Elliot was moving around the kitchen with familiarity and it amazed him again that he was going to be staying with him until he figured out what to do. "I cleaned up the living room."

"You didn't have to do that," Bobby told him as he made himself another cup of coffee.

He decide to drink it black as he picked up the paper off the kitchen table and then leaned against the counter. He was out of chairs having broken both of them. Now with Elliot there he was probably going to have to go out and buy some more. Maybe he should get metal ones...

"Your hand feeling any better?"

Bobby glanced up at Elliot, telling him, "Yeah, it is."

Elliot just shook his head at him as he leaned against the counter and started eating the breakfast he made. Then, surprising, he apologized, "Sorry about that."

"What're you apologizing for?"

Elliot was confused as he looked over at him. "I made you do it. You showed me a self-defense technique and when I made you come at me, I didn't realize how close the wall was behind me and you hit it."

Bobby wrinkled his head as he tried to remember that. Finally, the fuzzy fog of his hangover parted as the memories from last night invaded his head. Smiling slightly, he returned to reading the paper as he told him, "Don't worry 'bout it, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

It wasn't long after that when Elliot grabbed his keys and pulled on his coat. "Enjoy your day off," he told him before opening the front door and leaving.

Bobby finished eating his breakfast while he checked his phone messages. Once he was satisfied that enough time had passed and Elliot was gone, he quickly cleaned up and left.

* * *

Normally he would have never gone into work the way he was. This was the second day in a row that he went in with a hangover. Yesterday was out of his hands seeing how Sullivan had called him and then killed himself. Today, he was doing it for a reason.

The pain in his chest was tolerable but it shouldn't have even been there. He had managed to get down to a cigarette a day, or when the stress became too much and he needed a drink. Instead of drinking, he had a smoke. Last night, he hadn't cared.

Too much had happened to him too quickly and he had let himself slip. Now he was paying for it as he jogged up the flight of stairs to the homicide department. It felt like his chest was on fire as he headed down the hallway. Having come in on his day off, again, he hadn't bothered to change his clothes. He was still wearing the flannel and jeans; in his hand he carried a tall cup of coffee with his jacket hung over his forearm. A couple of detectives turned his way as he walked over to his desk but the looks didn't last long, except for Jackson.

Jackson had watched him come in with a frown of concern. He continued to talk on the phone, but his eyes stayed on him all the way up until Bobby sat down at his desk. That was when Jackson hung up the phone and walked over to him, smiling.

Bobby leaned back in his chair and turned to him. "What's going on?"

Jackson sat on the edge of his desk uninvited as he told him, "Do you know Officer Lipinski?"

Bobby nodded as he answered, "He's given me a ride to the ferry a few times."

"Well, he's looking for you. Seems that your girlfriend's been giving our officers trouble about that Connelly murder."

If Alex was talking to cops, then he had been right. The Connelly's had officers on their payroll. Bobby knew what he wanted to tell the detective, but he couldn't. Instead, he took a quick glance around the room before leaning on his desk, getting closer to Jackson. Dropping his voice, he asked innocently, "Why, uh, why would she be talking to them about it?"

Jackson was looking around the squad room as well as he told him, "It's no secret that a few guys work private security on their off time. Casino boats pay good money for hired help during certain times, like banquets, holidays, that sort of thing."

Bobby nodded before saying, "But, that doesn't mean they had anything to do with that murder. I, um...Look, I haven't, I mean…I don't like talking about personal things at work, ya know, but its just that...me and Eames, we're not exactly on speaking terms. I don't know if I can get her off their backs, but I'll see what I can do."

Jackson was studying him, really taking what he said into consideration before he told him, "Huh, I wasn't expecting that from a once Major Case detective. I was ready to have it out with you."

Bobby let himself smile at that. "Well, what can I say, I'm no longer with Major Case." The bitterness in his voice wasn't a put-on, he was still deeply wounded by what the brass did to him. However, it could have been worse. "And, honestly, I never liked investigating cops, but...being that close to the brass, there wasn't anything I could do about it. Now, Eames on the other hand, oh," he started laughing a little which went along with the jokingly smile that twisted his stomach. "I swore she got turned on by busting their balls, and it didn't matter if they deserved it or not."

Jackson was easily laughing along with him and he wanted to do nothing else but slam his fist into that grin. "But as long as you got yours, you went along with her?"

"Had to, she was senior partner and no amount of my...uh, influence could've swayed her differently."

"So, a bitch with a badge and a pair to go along with it. Why'd you stay with her for so long?"

"Why else? She may have been a bitch on the job, but once off," he looked around again before quietly telling Jackson, "she gave me no reason to look anywhere else."

"Lucky bastard," Jackson told him while shaking his head as they shared a laugh. "Damn, and now she won't have anything to do with you?"

Bobby looked at his desk while shaking his head. He detested having this talk with Jackson about Alex, but he was no longer able to preserve their relationship. It was all part of the game now, the operation. He had to find a way into the dark and feared world of corrupt cops. Talking about a girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend who was also a cop, was as good of a place as any to start forming alliances.

Looking up at Jackson, he leaned back in the chair while telling him, "Yeah, hey, uh, just, uh, don't tell Logan that I love working with him more; he might start developing a liking toward me."

Jackson really laughed at that as he told him, "We can't have that happen. If you two actually start getting along it'll get boring around here." He slid off the desk and started back to his desk before turning to him. "I'll let Lipinski know that you'll try to talk to her. Just beware that you might get shit from the guys over this."

Bobby nodded as he told him, "Thanks for the warning. I appreciate it."

"You need anything? It looks like you had a rough night, or a good one?"

Bobby felt the guilt rise up again over Sullivan's suicide. Shaking his head, then rubbing at the growth of hair on his face, he said, "Rough, very rough. What happened with Sullivan...it's hard. Now I've got the Lieu on my ass about it..." He trailed off shaking his head. "You're not gonna rat me out to her are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Goren. Hey, why're you here, anyway? I thought you were off."

"You finally realized that?" he asked, teasing the detective.

"Smartass," he teased him back before going back over to his desk.

Bobby pushed a few papers around, ignoring the paperwork until tomorrow, as he tried to determine what to do. The only plan he had with coming in, besides gauging the reaction from his fellow detectives, was to see what progress he could make in the Terrence Hughes case; however, now he had the urge to find Alex and have a talk with her.

That urge beat out all the others as he grabbed his binder and headed for the closet exit as he pulled out his cell phone. Alex had answered and as it turned out, she wasn't too far from him. Today was her day off as well and she was visiting her family on the island.

Bobby pulled up in front of the house where Alex's sister Liz and her husband Terry lived. He had never been there before and staring up at it, he had to admit it was nice. It was a small brick two bedroom house that was only a mile from the ocean. Through the window in the front of the house he could see the Christmas tree, and even though it was day time, the decorative lights were all on.

Bobby knocked on the door once before it opened and Terry greeted him.

"Bobby, come on in. Alex told us you were coming by. Are you off today too?"

"Yeah, but I had to go in..." Bobby trailed off as a giggling fourteen month old boy slammed into his leg.

Coming around the corner, and laughing too, was Alex. "Nathan, Aunt Alex is going to-" she stopped as she saw him standing there with Nathan clinging to his leg and giggling. "Bobby, I wasn't expecting you so soon. You sounded distracted on the phone.."

Bobby watched as she knelt down, ready to pick the boy up when he protested loudly before he reached his arms up toward him. He looked down at the small boy as he bent down and picked him up. "I had been," he told her as he positioned Nathan against his chest. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to come by here first or wait until later."

Nathan leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder before looking up at him with huge honey colored eyes, and said, "Bo-bop," as he hit his chest and then laid his head down against his shoulder again.

"Wow, he remembers you."

Bobby looked up, taking his eyes off the boy, and saw the source of that comment.

Liz strolled into the room from the back of the house where he presumed the kitchen was and stopped next to Alex.

"Liz," he greeted Alex's sister before he smiled back down at the boy.

"Want a drink, Bobby," Terry asked as he headed toward the back of the house.

"Coffee, if you have any made."

"I'll see," Terry said before he was gone, leaving him alone with the women. At least he still had Nathan for support.

"So, what's this about? It sounded important on the phone."

Glancing at Alex then to Liz, he told her, "It's work related."

"Of course it is, and it can't wait or else you wouldn't be here."

Bobby heard the annoyance in her voice and it made his back stiffen; he wasn't used to the hostility, not from her. He wondered if it was all for him or not and then decided that he didn't want to know.

Nathan started squirming in his arms as he rubbed at his eyes. "Dow-dow," he said as he started to push off his chest to get down. Once down, he was gone.

Liz looked at him and then Alex one last time before she ran after her son.

Alex pointed to the couch, indicting for him to sit as she sat down.

Bobby hesitated for a moment before he sat down next to her. When did he become so uncertain around her? "Thanks," he suddenly told her, "for inviting me over." He fell silent as Terry came back into the room with a cup of coffee for him.

"If either of you need anything I'll be in the kitchen."

"Thanks, Terry," Alex told her brother-in-law as he left the room. Turning to him, she asked, "You really went into work today?"

"Yeah, why? I did it all the time when working with you."

Alex looked at him as she told him, "Yeah, but never while you were hung over."

Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Bobby closed his eyes before taking a big gulp off the coffee. "I know," he told her. He wanted to tell her more but knew he couldn't. "Alex..." he said, his voice full of the strain and exasperation he felt. "When I, uh, when I went into work today, I was told about your investigation." Eyeing her, he said, "You're looking at cops?"

Alex sighed as she rubbed at her forehead. "I am; you were right, they had cops on their payroll."

"Right, and now I'm being asked to talk to you about dropping it. They don't want you looking at them for it."

"I know they don't; no one talked to us. They all hid behind their shield and union rep's."

Bobby hated what he was about ready to ask her, but he needed to gain the trust of the cops he was going to take down. He had to do it. "Listen, Eames, can I ask you a favor?"

Alex looked at him for a long moment before telling him., "It depends, how much am I going to regret it?"

Bobby tried for a smile as he told her, "I'm asking you to actually do it; back off your investigation."

The disbelief flashed in her eyes before the anger took over. "What? I'm not backing away from these guys just because they're hounding you about it at work."

"Alex-"

"No, Bobby," she snapped at him. "If this leads to cops, then that's where I'm going." She suddenly grew worried and confused as she asked, "What's this about? You were never afraid of taking down dirty cops before."

Bobby knew that he wouldn't get anywhere with her, and he was glad. She was doing the right thing. "It's nothing. Sorry I asked." Taking a drink, and finishing off the coffee, he nodded. "Okay, I told them that I would at least try even though I knew you wouldn't. Satisfied?"

"No, and you could have asked me over the phone," she told him.

"Yeah, I could've, but I, I wanted to see you," he told her as he put the cup down on the table before looking at her. "How are you?"

Some of her tension and anger dissolved as she smiled at that. "I'm doing okay. Copeland's a good partner."

He didn't care about work, but he knew why she would tell him that. "That's good. I, uh, I should go. I don't want to intrude on your time with your nephew," Bobby told her while standing. He headed for the door before stopping, turning around, and he asked, "Is it all right if...if I start calling you again?"

Alex was silent for a moment as she watched him. Finally, she nodded, saying, "I'll make sure I answer this time."

Bobby smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it brightened his eyes.

* * *

He was feeling like a horrible son. The worst. Bobby hadn't gone to visit his mother that day even though it was Sunday. He had instead went back to the department and actually did the paperwork he had wanted to put off until the next day. It was all he could do.

There was no identification on the girlfriend of Terrence Hughes. He had asked all his friends, and nothing. No one even knew that the kid had a girlfriend. His best friend wasn't even aware of it and supposedly Terrence had told him everything, just like he had done with his mother. Whoever this girl was, she was someone special to the boy. And maybe someone who he wasn't supposed to have been with.

His best bet to finding her would have been at Terrence's funeral, but it had been two weeks since his burial. Giving into a hunch, and a need for a much needed break, he had called everyone who had been at the funeral and asked if anyone of them had recorded it, even if it had only been a few minutes, seconds, he didn't care. To his luck, a few of them had, either on their cell phones or on a digital camera. So he set up appointments with them for Monday to come into the department.

So, the rest of the day had gone by without him noticing the time. It wasn't until Logan had walked in, pushing a short heavy stocked man toward the interrogation room, that he realized it was almost eight at night.

Once Logan had the guy cuffed to the table, he closed the door to the interrogation room and walked over to him. "I thought you were off."

Bobby looked around him toward the room as he told him, "I was. He your suspect?"

"Yeah, I got him on footage taken from a car lot across the street leaving the Rockaway Club on the night my victim was murdered. When I confronted him about it, he said that he's the handyman hired to fix some of the lights in the club, which he is. Then I asked why he was there during business hours fixing the lights. He clammed up and wouldn't talk."

"His eyes are dilated, red face…sweaty. He's high, Logan."

"I know. That's why I brought him here. I'm thinking he was doing some business of his own out of his toolbox. And my victim paid a price for it."

Bobby rubbed at his face as he thought about that. "Does he need to be interrogated now? Or can it wait until tomorrow?"

Logan eyed him, wondering what he was getting at as he said, "It can wait. I can book him on suspicion."

"Do that, and then come have a drink with me."

Logan was really looking at him now. "You sure? You look like you've had enough already."

"Logan, just do it," he suddenly snapped. "I'll meet you outside. You're driving."

For the first time since being on Staten Island, Bobby walked into the cop bar nearly thirty minutes later that was only blocks from the precinct. Logan had been shocked by his choice of venue, but didn't say anything or complained as they made their way across the floor to a booth in the back, against the wall, and sat down.

Once seated, Logan leaned back and eyed him like he would a suspect. "Okay, I'm about ready to shoot you to see if you bleed red and not green. Who are you really, because you're not Goren, pal."

Bobby smiled at him before turning to the waitress who approached the table. "Glenlivet, please."

Logan order his usual beer but didn't take his eyes off him. "Seriously, what's this about?"

Bobby didn't know how to breach the subject of IA investigations and undercover operations involving dirty cops and murder and crime bosses. He waited patently for their drinks to arrive before taking a sip, letting it ease the pain not only in his head but knee. It had been killing him, especially now with the winter here it was getting stiffer and aching more. It was one of the reasons he couldn't stop drinking. The over-the-counter pain medication wasn't strong enough and he had yet to visit the doctor to get any pain medication for it. So, he had been dealing with the increasing pain in his leg the best he knew how to, with alcohol.

Logan was aware of his sudden discomfort and unease as he took a long drink off the bottle before leaning in closer to him. "I heard that some of the officers were trying to track you down about Eames investigating them. I'm sorry, that has to be tough, huh, stuck in the middle like that. You okay?"

Bobby nodded a little as he rubbed at his jaw and itching for a shave that he knew he wouldn't get around to doing. "Um…Have you heard anything else, 'bout me?"

Logan studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. "Nothing that's true."

Bobby stiffened as he nervously glanced around the bar full of cops. "What, uh…what is it, Logan. You can tell me."

Logan breathed out deeply as he downed the bottle and gestured for another one. "They're just rumors, and if you actually poked your head out of your ass once in a while, you'll be aware of what they are."

Bobby groaned at his avoidance; he didn't have time for this. "Does it have anything to do with what's been going on over the past couple of weeks?"

Logan was silent as the waitress sat another beer down but his look said it all. "Yeah, but there's more."

"Let me guess…IA?"

"You do know. Then why are you asking me about it for?" he asked defensively, and with a hint of anger.

Bobby took another sip of the scotch as he told him quietly as he looked toward the door as it opened a few detectives from Homicide walked it. "Because, I'm being investigated by them…IA Agent Garrison cornered me yesterday."

Logan was thankfully quit as he only gripped the bottle but had yet to take a drink as he listened.

"Logan…It's not true, what IA is putting out there, that I'm dirty, but…They want it to look that way."

"What, why?"

Bobby looked at his partner as he told him, "They're conducting an undercover operation, and, they want me to be part of it. Actually, they want me to be it. I have to be…a corrupted cop, to get taken in by other corrupt cops. Logan, they're working on bringing a lot of guys down for this. Cops who are involved in murder, drugs…organized crime, politicians. It goes deep."

Logan took another long drink as he stared at him. Finally, once he seemed to grasp what he had told him, he asked, "Why are you telling me this? If you're undercover…"

"I want you, Logan. I need a partner in this because I doubt I can do this alone. Not here. I asked for you to be part of it, but…you have to accept the offer. If you don't then…I'm in this alone and I will deal."

Logan was silent for a long time as he looked around the bar, taking in the loaded question he was just asked. This was asking a lot from Logan; a cop who had worked Staten Island for ten years, a cop who had many friends here, friends that could be corrupted and he didn't know it, and a cop who wanted to get off this island, not get buried under it. "You think they were responsible for the Connelly murder?"

Bobby only nodded as he took a drink.

"And Sullivan?"

"He was being investigated by IA. I think, I think that he used the Hughes case a cop-out to his other dealings. Or maybe something happened and he was told to do it, to protect the rest of them. As of now, I only have speculation."

Logan looked at the table, shaking his head, before staring up at him. "Dirty cops killing families, stealing money…making one of their own bit the bullet and confess to a murder he didn't commit. This is big; losing our jobs big. Or worse, getting killed by other dirty cops big. And we're going to be thrown right in the middle of it. We're gonna have to drift into that world, Bobby. That lonely dark world full of lies and secrets."

"I know what it involves, Mike. I know what this could mean, what it could cost me. I wouldn't have asked IA to bring you in if I didn't trust you. If I didn't think you could handle it. However, it's your choice. If you're not up for it, now is the time to let me know. Now is the time to back out."

Logan stared at him for a long moment before leaning over and telling him, "I'm your partner, damn it. And I told you that night the Connelly's were murdered that if we go down this road we're going down it together. Now, get me my body armor and that suicide pill and let's go take down a bunch of dirty fucking cops."

As Bobby watched Logan take a drink of his beer, he suddenly got a feeling of what this was going to be like. Looking around the cop bar and taking in all the men and women who held a badge, he knew there would be more then secrets and lies. There would be blood. Sullivan was the first, and he knew that he wouldn't be the last.

TBC…


	9. A name was all he needed

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews. I'm glad to know that you all are with me on this.

Enjoy!

* * *

"So, how's life treating you?"

Alex laughed at the attempt by her new partner to get to know her. Taking the offered martini, she smiled as Copeland sat down next to her at the bar with his usual beer. "It's good. Yours?"

Copeland shrugged as he lightly told her, "Can't complain."

Alex took a sip of the drink as she looked around the mostly empty bar. It was Sunday evening and they had tomorrow off work; one of the rarity weekdays off that only came if she put in over time over the weekend. She had worked all day and into the night on Saturday and Deakins told her before she left work Sunday morning to take two days. Looking back at her partner, she asked, "Is she here?"

"Who?" he asked innocently but she knew from the teasing light in his eyes that he knew exactly who.

"The woman you seem to be falling over yourself for," at the look of surprise, Alex smiled. "Oh, don't think I didn't notice the phone calls and text messaging you've been doing, all of which you tried to hide from me. So, either you're doing something you're not supposed to be doing or…she's got her claws in you."

Copeland looked away as he took a drink but she saw the shy smile that replaced the teasing one. "She's not here. I actually came because of you."

"Checking up on me already?"

He looked back over at her and leaned slightly toward her, getting her attention. "I know we've just started getting to know one another, but…I can already tell a few things about you. One is that you're no one that I should mess with, you'll kick my ass. Two…I can see that you're not sleeping, at least not all the time. It does nothing to impair your mad skills as a cop, it just worries me that something's going on."

"I appreciate it, I do, but I'm fine, It's just with the holidays, and family, I'm doing a lot. I don't have much time to sleep," she told him, trying to get him to not worry. What she said was the truth. She was busy with family, but that wasn't what kept her up at night. It wasn't why she was having trouble sleeping.

Copeland seemed to consider that as he went back to looking at the bar and drinking his drink. If he was Bobby, he would have stared at her until he was satisfied in what he saw, or until he thought of another question or something that would help to ease her mind.

Alex was grateful that Copeland didn't pry, that he didn't try to step over her boundaries, even if it was in a misguide attempt to help her. He was a normal guy, a normal partner, and of normal mind.

"I think we need to go back to the beginning."

Alex sat her drink down as she looked over at Copeland. He had finished his beer and was paying the bartender as he glanced over at her. "What'd you mean?"

Copeland shifted on the stool as he leaned against it so he could talk to her. "With the Connelly case. I wasn't there at the start of it, I'll like to check out the house, talk to the housekeeper, the son, and the responding officers. You said it yourself that something wasn't adding up after we talked to Officer Gabriele. Maybe something was missed early on."

Alex gave that some thought. She knew it wasn't because Copeland didn't trust in her ability as a cop, or even Bobby's, but they had hit nothing but dead ends throughout this entire case. Nothing was adding up. Not the money, the tax fraud, the casinos…it was all smoke and mirrors. She had even suggested that all the evidence was fabricated, like the crime scene.

Bobby's absence was starting to be show and she was missing his leaps of logic greatly. He would have figured something out by now, she knew it. He would have remembered something, caught a meaning in something trivial or seemingly unimportant and he would have known. But Bobby wasn't there. Copeland was, and he was a good cop like her. And just like her, he wasn't a damn mind reader. If they were going to solve this, they were going to have to do it the old fashioned way. Pound the pavement, talk to everyone, ask questions, and hopefully catch a break.

"Okay, and you're right. We're getting nowhere and the best thing to do when you get to this point is to go back to the start of it."

Copeland let out a breath and nodded. "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?"

"I was afraid that you'll think I was under-minding you. I'm not, by the way."

Alex slid off the stool and grabbed her purse. "I know. I was just thinking how much I'm going to have to change my investigative style now that you're my partner."

"And not Goren. Yeah, I heard about his way of working; it wasn't exactly by procedure."

"No, it wasn't. He got a doctor on the murder of his wife when we didn't even have a single solitary piece of proof to say that the guy was actually the one to do it, or if his wife was even dead. He knew by instinct and intuition, and by profiling him. Some times that was all we needed. Now, I have to realize that I will no longer be woken up at two in morning by Goren telling me he figured a case out because of some painting he saw or mints he found at the crime scene."

As they left the bar, Copeland looked down at her as he held the door open for her. "Mints?"

Alex smiled as she walked by him. "It's a long story. See you Tuesday."

"Have a good day off, Eames."

"You too, Harry."

Copeland stopped walking and looked back at her with a smile before continuing on to his car.

Alex walked the few feet from the door to her car and got in. Starting the engine, she turned the heat on blast and breathed out. Pulling out her cell phone, she called the number that she knew by heart and waited. After five rings it went to his voicemail.

"You've reached Robert Goren. Leave a message."

Short, simple, and completely not what she wanted to hear. Flipping her phone shut, she snapped on her seatbelt, something that she rarely saw Bobby do, before pulling out into traffic.

* * *

The coffee did little to warm him as he made his way around the convoy of police cars. He sat the cup down on the hood of a cop car as he past it before ducking under the crime scene tape. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars swirled around the dark canvasses of the alley as he headed down it. Near the middle of the alley he spotted Logan kneeling next to an exposed arm. As he got closer, he saw the rest of the body.

It was a young woman, dark hair, dark eyes, and she was barely clothed. Moving around Logan, he bent down and took in her appearance as he brought her hand up to his nose. It smelt of cologne. On her arms he saw the needle marks. She was a heroine junkie.

"I.D. was found on her," Logan was telling him as he stood to let him have complete access to the body. "Her name's Jessica Fox. The woman who called it in called her Foxy. I'm guessing from the leather vest, short skit and fuck me pumps that she's a pro."

Looking up at Logan, Bobby raised the question without even speaking it.

"What? That's what they call those type of high-heels," Logan said with a sly grin and innocent eyes.

Returning his attention back to the body, Bobby gestured to her neck. "She was strangled like all the others," he told him as he leaned down closer as he pulled out a small flashlight from his jacket. Clicking it on, he was able to see the wounds better. Stuck in one of the lacerations on the neck was a piece of fabric. It was red and looked to be made of silk. "Looks like part of the material that was used came off. It's silky, red…a tie or scarf maybe. It had to have been worn, or old to have threaded out."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, there's a lot more bruising and cuts on her than the previous victims. She either did something to provoke him or…she did nothing and he's getting more violent. If that's the case then he's progressing and he's not going to stop anytime soon."

"Not until we get him," Logan said as he walked over to one of the officers that was approaching. "Have you found her?"

"No," the officer answered. "Whoever she was, she's gone."

Bobby stood and asked Logan after the officer walked away. "The female caller?"

Logan nodded as they started for their cars. "She called us then bolted. Probably afraid if she stuck around that she would be killed next."

Bobby looked around the street once they existed the alleyway. There wasn't a lot of places that she could have gone. The neighborhood wasn't notorious for the nightlife, and it defiantly wasn't a place notorious for working girls hanging out on the corners. The woman that found the victim either lived on that street, or she was with the guy when he dumped the body. "Let's check out the victim's home. Where does she live?"

Logan looked at his notepad; reading the address, he told him, "She's from Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn? Then why did he dump her here?"

"Beats me. Wanna wait until tomorrow or do it now?"

Bobby rubbed at his jaw as he walked by the cop car and picked up his cup of coffee. "Now. I'm already up, and I doubt I'll be getting any sleep anytime soon."

They drove back to the department where he dropped off his car before quickly getting into the department issue Crown Vic that Logan was driving. During the drive, he focused on the case and what he had found at the crime scene, which wasn't much. A fabric, a smell of cologne on the woman's hands, and the possibility of escalation by the killer. Other than that, they still had nothing but a new victim. Another woman had to die for them to even get that much. It made his stomach twist and chest ache.

He knew that the killer wasn't a mastermind or an evil genius, hardly anyone was. They were just people who thought they were, but this guy was smart. The killer knew how to dispose of a body; he knew how to not leave a lot of evidence, and he was murdering women that most of society and even the cops didn't care about. These cases had gone unsolved for over a year because of that one simple fact, that these women were prostitutes, druggies, and no one seemed to care if they turned up missing or not.

Bobby cared and it sickened him that he and Logan were the only ones. It wasn't long before they were searching around a rundown neighborhood in the middle of Brooklyn trying to find the woman's address. "I think that's it."

Logan slowed the car and stared up at the building. "It's a condemned building that used to be a butcher shop. No one lives here."

"Above it, looks like apartments, and the address fits." Bobby got out once the car was parked and looked for a door that would lead up to the floors above the abandoned store below it. "The only door I see is the off the store, but it's barred and chained."

Logan shook his head as he went down to the corner. "Maybe there's one off the alley."

Following, Bobby buttoned up his coat as the temperature began to drop. It was getting colder by the minute and a light snow had begun to fall. As Logan looked for an unlocked door, he looked up at the fire escape.

"Aw, hell, this is crazy," Logan announced as he tried to pull open a locked door. "I think it's the wrong address, Goren."

"I'm guessing that you never worked Narcotics," Bobby said as he eyed the ladder and without thinking too much about it going horribly wrong, he took off his overcoat. "Whoever lives here doesn't want cops being able to bust in on them. I'm going up." He tossed his coat to Logan before he jumped up and barely caught the first rung of the ladder and started pulling himself up the fire escape. The ladder wasn't fully secured to the landing and it swung as he pulled himself up the rungs.

Logan shined the flashlight up at him as he told him, "You're nuts, you know that right?"

Finally getting his foot on the ladder, he looked down at Logan as it swung back, nearly making him lose his grip on the cold steel bar his was gripping. "Tell you what, if I can get in from the roof I'll come down and open a door for you," Bobby grunted out as he pulled himself up onto the first landing. After the initial climb up the ladder, the steps up to the top floor would be easy. Then he would have to scale another ladder up to the roof.

He started up the fire escape and after six flights he was out of steps. Looking up toward the roof, he saw the ladder attached to the side of the brick building and sighed deeply. It looked loose and some of the rungs were missing.

"You okay, Goren." Logan asked from the ground as he pointed the light up to him. "It looks like you're-"

Bobby grabbed the bottom rung and pulled himself up as he used his feet against the wall for support. His shoes scrapped down over the brick wall as he pulled himself up from one rung to the other until he was able to step on the bottom rung. Breathing out hard, he leaned against the ladder as he closed his eyes. He sure as hell wasn't as young as he used to be, this was starting to hurt.

"You're like a fucking mountain goat."

Glaring down at Logan, Bobby knew that he couldn't see his look so he told him, "I've been rocking climbing with Eames."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I held the rope while she climbed," Bobby grunted out as he started up the ladder as his knee started to protest against the movement. He heard Logan's laughter even though he was almost seven stories off the ground. "It looked easy."

"And actually doing it?"

Bobby didn't answer as he made it to the top of the roof and climbed over the ledge. "Piece of cake," he yelled down to him before he sat down on the roof and caught his breath as he rubbed at his knee and willing the pain away.

He didn't waste a lot of time trying to rub the pain out of his leg before he got up and searched around the roof from the door to the stairwell. The door was thankfully unlocked and as soon as he opened it, the smell assaulted his nose and it stung. "Oh, God…" he breathed out as he covered his mouth and nose.

It didn't take any wondering what that smell was; he had been suspicious of the whole building as soon as they pulled up to it. And the fact that it was over an condemned butcher shop added to the intensity of the repugnant smell that nearly made him lose his stomach.

Descending the stairs, he kept to the side, near the wall, the entire way down to the bottom floor. His sleeve stayed pressed to his nose as he used his flashlight to see where he was going. There were no lights in the stairwell and on the steps he saw everything from dried urine and used condoms to weeks, maybe even months, old food. Used needles were lying like booby traps all the way down the middle of the steps and groups of broken glass were glued to the railing. As he neared the bottom floor, he saw what looked like to be grease spread out over the middle of the steps and even on the railing.

If a cop happened to chase a junkie or murderer or whoever into this building and up these steps, he was sure that the steps would win the fight. He was also positive that no cop in his right mind would even attempt to scale this stairwell. Bobby wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that people thought that he wasn't entirely in his right mind; it made it easier to do all the crazy and stupid things he had to do to get the job done.

There was a single deadbolt lock on the door and once he unlocked it, he stepped out into the alley and went right across it to the next building, next to the dumpster, and dry heaved until he was certain that he wasn't going to get sick.

"I can't believe you just did that."

Bobby glanced over his shoulder at Logan before closing his eyes and breathing in fresher air. "We need to see her apartment." Straightening, he turned back toward Logan and gestured for him to follow behind him. "Stay close to the wall and keep the door open, hopefully it'll ventilate the stench."

Going up to the fourth floor was just as nauseating. The open door down below did nothing to help the smell that stung his nose and made his throat constrict. Logan was following and hadn't yet to say anything except for the occasional curse word and groan that reflected his disgust.

Bobby came to the room marked 4D by the clever use of a bra tag and looked back at Logan as he drew his gun. He was sure he wouldn't need it, except to maybe shoot the rats, before he reached toward the door handle. Thinking better of it, he stopped his hand and used the butt of his gun to knock on the door. After receiving no answer, he backed up a few feet before using his leg left to kick in the door. It splintered in two as it swung off the hinges and landed on the floor.

"What's that leg made of? Steel."

"It was an old door, rusty hinges…things break," Bobby explained as he walked in and holstered his gun. There was no one home. The apartment was a studio and there was no separate rooms. Everything was out in the open except for the bathroom that was closed off by the use of sheets and plywood.

"How can people live like this?"

Bobby shook his head as he looked around. "Desperation."

"That was rhetorical, Goren."

"The answer still applies. This," he gestured around at the rundown room that was littered with debris and smelt like the rest of the building, "it's what desperate people do. They want a place to live, a home, and they'll do what they've got to do to get it, especially in the winter time." Bobby looked over the bed that was messed up and noticed that parts of it was soiled. Some were from a clear liquid, possibly bodily fluids, but some smaller drops looked darker, redder. "I've got dried blood."

"I'll call CSU."

As Logan made the phone call, Bobby moved away from the bed and looked around the dresser that was against the wall by the plastic, makeshift closet. Sitting on top of the dresser and leaning against the wall was a huge mirror and scattered on the dresser was all kinds of things. Makeup, coins, bags of heroine and unused needles, magazines, books, newspapers…The classifieds were exposed and a few jobs were circled along with some ads in 'looking for' section.

"She could have seen one of these guys," he told Logan as he held up the paper before reading one of them. "Forty year old single white male looking for a 18 to 25 year old woman who enjoys walks in Central Park, movies, dinner, and dancing."

"Creepy."

Bobby went to toss the paper down when he spotted the card on the dresser that had been under the paper. Picking it up, he read it. "Anything your heart desires."

"Anything," Logan asked as he walked up next to him. "What I desire is to find the sick fuck killing these women."

"It doesn't have the name of the business on it, but I'm sure I can guess what kind of desire it's talking about. There's no name but I got a phone number. 212-555-3825."

"Excellent. Let's say we get out of here and wait for the CSU techs downstairs? I think the smell is starting to get permanently attached to my clothes. I might have to burn them."

"You know, she didn't smell of anything, except…There was the smell of a man's cologne on her hands."

Logan looked back at him and pointed to the shower and the array of candles and body sprays she had around the room. "I wonder why. And all she has is leather. Smell doesn't attach itself to leather. We can follow up on the card later. I'm tired and all I want to do is go home and shower for about three hours."

Bobby pocketed the card as he followed Logan out of the room, down the stairs, and then out of the building.

* * *

She had called him and he hadn't even known it. Bobby thought of calling her back but he didn't want to talk on the phone. He wanted to see her, look at her, smell her. The lights were on and he saw a small little Christmas tree sitting in the window. Alex always decorated her house for her nieces and nephew during the holidays and it made him feel good whenever he went over to her place.

His mother had stopped celebrating the holidays when he was ten years old. He barely remembered the last Christmas they had together as a family. It was blurred by frantic voices and noises, by the emptiness of the house and the silence that followed the yelling. His father had left and didn't return until after the new year and his mother, she was missing for hours at a time, returning at odd times in the middle of the night and coming into his room asking him strange questions that he couldn't have possibly been able to answer.

It could have been many memories from that winter that swirled around the confusion of what actually happened that day. His memories were known to do that, get jumbled and mixed together because of all the times he had hid or left himself. It wasn't him actually leaving the house, but of going to the one place he always felt safe and sought solitude and security. He would go into his head, disconnect from everything and one around him until the pain disappeared. Until the yelling stopped.

He hadn't celebrated the holiday since, except for getting his mother a gift and spending time with her. That was if he didn't have to work. Standing on the stoop outside her apartment, Bobby saw her through the window. She was wrapping presents on the floor. A bottle of wine and glass were on the table along with a few books and an open photo album. The fireplace was burning with the lights down low. Alex was laughing and that was when he noticed she was talking on the phone.

Ducking his head away from the window, he didn't know if he should intrude or not. He wondered if she was up to listening to him or not. She had said that she missed him, her friend. He missed her too but he didn't know if he could go back to just being her friend after knowing what loving her was like. Not after having her in his life and in his bed.

The war in his heart and mind was driving him crazy. He knew what he wanted, he just didn't want what he wanted. Or at least he was deeply scared in getting it. In losing it. He had her once and lost her to his rage. If he lost her again, it would be his undoing. He didn't know if he could risk it.

Suddenly, the door opened and Alex breathed out a sigh as she spoke into the phone, "I'll call you later, Bobby's stalking me."

Bobby frowned in concern but then he saw the twinkle in her eyes as she hung up the phone. She was teasing him. "I'm not stalking you."

"Could've been. You've been standing out here long enough." Alex moved aside to let him in. "Why didn't you knock?"

Bobby moved just inside the door before she closed it. Shaking his head, he looked her over and was satisfied at what he saw. She was looking slightly better, not as heartbreaking as the other night he had showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. She still looked tired but it wasn't as bad as before. "I didn't know if…If, I, uh, if I was going to be intruding. You were on the phone."

"Yes, but I have two hands and I can multitask," she teased again as she went into the living room and picked up the wineglass and took a sip. "Want one?"

"Sure, thanks," he told her as he kicked off his shoes by the door and hung up his overcoat.

The happy chirping of Polly drew his eyes and he smiled at the bird that was flapping it's wings and singing to him. That bird always did like his presence.

"Polly missed you," she told him as she came back into the room with an empty glass for him. Pouring some of the red wine into the glass, she handed it to him before sitting back down on the floor and proceeded to finish her gift wrapping.

"Who's that for?"

Alex smiled wide as she told him, "Nathan. It's a tickle me Elmo."

Bobby stared at her as he glanced at the wineglass and wondered how many she had. "A what?"

Alex laughed at him as she took a piece of tap that was stuck to the side of the coffee table and tapped the sides of the wrapping paper down. "Sesame Street."

Bobby took a sip of the wine as he leaned back and stretched his legs out. He closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent in the air. Alex's house always made him feel warm, comfortable. He could smell the plants, the candles that smelled of Lavender and Jasmine. Under the homely smells of the house, he could smell her scent. The body cream she liked smelled honey and that was what she smelled of. However, the perfume her also smelt on her wasn't the usual kind and that got his mind wondering. "I see that you're doing better."

Alex looked up at him as she sat the gift aside and grabbed another one. It was a jewelry case for a watch. "Thanks for noticing, but I'm not completely there yet."

"Are you still seeing Dr. Olivet?"

"Yes, every Monday mornings for the next month," she told him before going back to wrapping the present.

"Who's that one for?"

Alex smiled over at him as she told him, "None of your business."

Bobby grinned slightly as he sat up and got a better look at the box. "Looks expensive."

Alex finished wrapping it and set it aside with the others. "It was."

"So, who's it for again?"

Alex shook her head at him and got up, taking the gifts with her. "I already told you."

"It wasn't the answer I wanted."

She disappeared down the hall and he knew that she was going to her bedroom. Bobby felt the curiosity continue to grow in him as he thought about what she said and what it meant. Had she gotten him a gift?

Alex came back into the room and saw his look. Rolling her eyes, she finally told him, "Yes, it's for you. Happy, you ruined the surprise."

Bobby looked up at her as he asked simply, "Why?"

The look of confusion was on her face as she answered, "Why? Because I wanted to get you something."

"Yeah, but…it's not even close to being Christmas yet and you've already gotten me something. That means that you've had something in mind for awhile. We've been separated for two months, yet, you still got it for me."

"Right, I did. You're still my friend, Bobby. And I still want to treat you like one." Alex suddenly eyed him as she asked, "Have you gotten me anything?"

Bobby slightly shook his head. "I haven't gotten anybody anything. I…I didn't know if you would be…receptive of anything coming from me."

Alex didn't look surprised at that answer, but she also looked a little angry. "I don't hate you. I told you I didn't, I also told you that I still love you. Why would I not appreciate something as considerate as a gift from you?"

Bobby hated when she did that; she was making him feel guilty. Pushing the guilt away, he felt the anger that always lingered behind the guilt as he told her, "I guess I should have realized that, but your actions always speak louder than your words, Eames. You may say you still love me, but you had refused to answer all of my calls."

"You're not turning this into an argument about what I did," Alex interrupted him as she started to get angry herself.

"I wasn't trying to argue, I was only stating why I didn't feel justified in-in…not getting you a damn present yet. I didn't think I had the right to."

"Why would I need to tell you that it's okay? You should know it's okay. You should know how I feel about you even if we're yelling at each other, like we're doing know."

Bobby groaned in annoyance before he got up, but not before slamming the glass down on the table. "How am I supposed to know how you feel!"

Alex's own annoyance was showing as she covered her face before shaking her head at him. Staring over at him as she crossed her arms, indicating to him how pissed off she was at him, she told him, "By connecting with me, emotionally. You can't keep trying to intellectualize everything, especially in a relationship. If you would just try to believe me when I tell you I love you then you'll know that my love doesn't change or go away just because we're not seeing eye to eye on things or because we're having a fight, or we're separated."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he stared at the floor. It hit him all over again like a tidal wave. Her love for him was something he never had from anyone before; it was nearly unconditional, and he didn't know how to respond to that. "I…Alex, I don't know…How am I supposed to, um…to deal with that?"

Alex was silent for a moment as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. "Deal with what?"

"With…with you, that's what. How…" he stopped himself before he hasty said something that he didn't want to. "Can we work this out or not, Alex?" Bobby asked instead of trying to voice what was confusing his head. He didn't know how to ask her why she loved him the way she did so why not just ask the question that has been on his mind for months now.

"That's not what you wanted to ask me, Bobby."

Looking up, he saw the pain in her eyes. She wanted him to be open and honest with her. She wanted to connect with him again, and it was hurting her that he was unwilling to do that. Bobby breathed out hard as he struggled to think with what to tell her. He couldn't stay still any longer. Moving around to the back of the couch, he rubbed at the back of neck as he paced back-and-forth behind it. It also to help distance himself from her. "If I try to be more open, can we work this out?"

Alex waited until he looked up at her and when he did, she nodded. "Of course. That's what I've been wanting to do. Our mutual anger just seems to get in the way of us talking."

"Why are you so angry anyway?"

Alex shrugged as she held more tightly to her self. "I…Bobby, I'm not sure. It's just the way I've been feeling. Part of it's has to do with you, part of its about what happened to me, my abduction…some of it's about what the brass did to you. It's hard to stop being so angry right now and you're not exactly helping."

Bobby stopped his pacing as he listened to her. She needed him to give her something now, to open up. Looking back towards the floor, he told her, "I always get my mother a gift no matter what. For Christmas, her birthday…ever since I returned from the Army. And every time I give it to her, she never opens it. She always wants to wait until Frank comes to see her first. Thing is, he never does. So I spend the whole day with her waiting. Before I leave, I ask her to open it for me. She refuses, telling me she'll do it when she's not so tired, and that she'll call me to let me know if she likes it or not." Looking up at Alex, he asked, "You, Alex…you don't have any idea what that's like. That constant trying to figure out what I can do to make things better. To make my mother appreciate what I do for her. So, when I'm with you, all I can do is think about what I'm doing wrong, how do I fix it, and what I have to do to make you appreciate what I do for you. But, I can't because I don't understand you. I don't understand why you don't have to have a reason to be nice to me. I yell at you, and you forgive me. I lose my temper with you, and you buy me an expensive gift. I say and do stupid things yet I still get your love. What…I-I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how to take it, or how to feel about it. It scares me. It scares me because I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What my purpose is with you…or, what I'm responsible for."

Alex had eased her tension and anger with him, but she had yet to cross the room toward him. She was struggling herself with what to say as she said, "Bobby…I don't even know how to answer that."

Shaking his head, he looked back to the floor. "Just…can you tell me what to do? What," looking back up at her, he asked, "what do you want me to do?"

"I can't tell you want to do. I shouldn't have to."

Bobby knew that was coming and it was exactly what he didn't want to hear. He was at a lose and she wasn't helping him with leaving it up to him. "You can't leave it to me, Alex. I fuck it up when you do that."

"I'm not your keeper, Bobby. I can't tell you how-"

"I'm not asking you to be, I'm asking you to help me," Bobby nearly yelled as he anger was creeping back up.

Alex started to get frustrated again as she started to pace herself. "Bobby, I don't have all the answers. I wish I did but I don't. Like you said, I don't know how you think, I don't know what you're feeling. I have never in my life worked as hard on a relationship as I have with you. I try to understand, I try not to judge, and I try to give you as much space as humanly possible without totally isolating us from one another, but it's never enough. When you push, you also pull. When you say you want to be with me you also try to keep as far away from me as possible. I don't even think you know what you want, so how can I tell you what to do about it? How can I tell you how to fix something when I don't even know how it's broken. And don't think I haven't tried. I tried to figure it out ever since the night we broke up and I still don't get it. I've accepted your rage, and your anger as who you are. I've forgiven that. I've forgiven the fact that you really do have no idea how to emotionally connect with me. I've also forgiven you for being a little narcissistic when it comes to everything. But, what I can't forgive is how you can have a complete disregard for anyone else's feelings but your own."

"Please, all I do is think about how you feel about me. What I did wrong and how I can make it up to you."

"Yes, you think about it after you screw things up. But it's always after you go ahead and do what you want to do. It's only after you ignore me or my feelings that you let yourself worry about it. You never worry about it before hand because if you did then maybe you might have to put your own life or feelings on hold for someone else."

"I put my own feelings on hold all the damn time, Eames. It's why I can't connect, remember."

"Oh, God," Alex groaned out in frustration as she walked over to him. "Except for when you get angry, right? That seems to be the only emotion you can express correctly and in an wide spectrum of ranges. When are you going to start being honest, Bobby? Not only with me but with yourself."

Bobby stilled at that. That completely took him by surprise. "I am honest."

"No, you're not, not completely. I didn't realize how much of denial you lived in until I left. You can't be honest with me with your feelings, and you're not at all honest with yourself about them either. That's the real reason why you're so damn confused and angry all the time. It's why you really can't tell me how you feel. You can't accept the truth about how you feel. It's why you hide."

Bobby stared down at her as she stepped closer to him; feeling the shame in the fact that she was right, he closed his eyes and in doing so he did what he normally did when he was feeling this angry, he shut himself down. He didn't want to lose it with her again and he was feeling himself slipping closer and closer to that edge. Opening his eyes, he say the change in her as well. She knew what he had done.

Nodding her head, she confirmed his suspicions. "Point proven. It's okay if we disagree, Bobby, and it's even okay that we fight once in a while, but it's not okay when the only thing you can give me is either silence or anger."

"Is that why for the past two months that's all I've been getting from you?" Bobby asked but this time there was no feelings of guilt at the pain those words had caused her.

Alex shook her head at him before turning and walking away. "When you're ready to stop hiding from me, let me know."

Bobby watched as she disappeared back down the hallway before looking around the room he was standing in. Suddenly being surrounded by her warm home was overwhelming and anything but comfortable.

* * *

There had been no call. Bobby had been up since returning home, walking his floor, and flipping his phone open and close in his hand. Garrison had told him that he would call. He hadn't. Walking into the kitchen for the umpteenth time, he looked at the clock as he started another pot of coffee; it was going on six.

Since he had been ready for work for hours, he started breakfast, which consisted of bacon and eggs, and went to retrieve the newspaper from his front stoop. Opening his door, he reached down for the paper when movement off to his left caught his attention. Looking over, he spotted the source of the movement. Garrison was sitting in a car, watching him…watching his home.

Garrison didn't even look away when they locked eyes. He only smiled over at him before starting the engine and shifting the car into drive.

Bobby watched the car until it turned the corner and was out of sight. A twisted feeling of unease settled in his stomach as he went back inside. He was not only feeling uneasy about what Garrison was up to, but now he was curious. What was he up to? He was sure he would find out soon enough.

Pushing his front door shut and locking it, he started for the kitchen. As he reentered the kitchen, he tossed the paper onto the table as he went over to the stove to flip the bacon and stir the eggs. Once the food was done, and he was filling a plate, the backdoor swung open as Elliot staggered through carrying two chairs, one in each hand.

Kicking the door close, Elliot didn't look up at him as he crossed the floor then dropped the chairs onto the floor next to the table. "Well, what'd you think?"

Bobby looked from Elliot to the chairs and shrugged. Picking up his plate and cup of coffee, he sat down in one and started eating. He reached over and opened the paper, taking out the sections he wanted to read, and left the rest for Elliot.

"I had a few chairs left over from the dining table that we used to have before I got the bigger one. Thought since we weren't using them then you could." Elliot went over to the coffee pot and filled a cup. Sitting it down on the table, he told him, "I can't keep sleeping in your room, Bobby."

At hearing that, he looked away from the paper and watched as Elliot opened the refrigerator. "Well, one of us has to and it's not going to be me," Bobby told him before going back to eating his food.

"It's weird," Elliot said, but it sounded like he was distracted.

"You changed the sheets, put your own on…What's weird about it?" Bobby asked as he saw a story in the paper about a shooting that took place in Central Park last night.

Elliot was quiet for a moment as he sat down at the table, picked up the rest of the paper, and started to thumb through the remaining sections. "So, uh, everything okay?"

Bobby glanced over at Elliot who was pretending to ignore him as he read the paper. The way he asked that, and now pretended to not care what the answer was made him know that something had provoked Elliot's concern. "Yeah; why would you ask that?"

Sitting the paper down, he told him, "You just bought a couple cases of beer yesterday, and now one of them is already gone."

Bobby glanced at the refrigerator and then back at Elliot. Going back to finishing up his breakfast, he shook his head as he told him, "It's nothing."

"It's nothing? Bobby…Take your bed back. It's your room. I'll take the couch."

Bobby shook his head as picked up his empty plate and coffee cup and took them to the sink. "I told you, I can't sleep in my bed."

Nothing was said for a moment, then Elliot announced, "Neither can I."

Bobby was starting to feel frustrated as he turned and glared at Elliot. "Then I hope you start looking through the classifieds for some place else to stay."

Elliot glared right back at him for a long moment before angrily telling him, "Fine. Stay miserable. I was only trying to help you out." He looked really pissed at him as he went back to staring the paper in his hands.

"And you did…thanks for the chairs," Bobby said, finally thanking him, as he grabbed his keys, wallet, and shield as he headed for the door; passing Elliot, he bitterly told him, "Lock up, sweetie."

"Don't drive off a bridge, dear," Elliot snapped back.

* * *

"Well, don't you look like Mister Sunshine."

Bobby glared at Logan as he sat down at his desk and leaned back in the chair. He was in a miserable mood, but it wasn't nothing new. The feeling had been a familiar one for the last two months. The argument he had with Alex last night still filled his head, causing it pain and misery. Then Elliot questioning him nearly set him off again. He was starting to think that he had made a huge mistake with letting Elliot stay with him until he figured out what he was going to do.

Logan was doing some paperwork for his own case and hadn't paid him much attention since he sat down.

"Can I ask you something?"

At that, Logan looked up at him in confusion and awe. "You're actually asking me for something? Like, advice?"

Bobby leaned on his desk as he asked, "If you had a friend that was going through a, uh…problems at home, would you let him move in with you?"

Logan took that in before asking, "How good of a friend are we talking about?"

Bobby shrugged, "I don't know, a friend. A good friend…your best friend."

"That's not exactly 'I don't know'. So, you let Stabler move in with you?"

Bobby shouldn't have been surprised that Logan knew, and that he would think that Elliot was his best friend. Was he his best friend? Shaking that away, he told him, "He's…annoying me. I'm starting to think that I made a mistake but I don't know how to tell him that."

"What's he doing that's annoying you?"

Bobby told him simply, and innocently, "He's there."

"That's it?" Logan asked, looking shocked. "He's not using your toothpaste or blasting the TV while you're trying to sleep…He's not drinking all the beer and eating all your Captain Crunch without buying you more?"

"No."

"So, let me get this straight. Your best friend is living with you until he gets his life by on track, and you can't stand him there just for the simple fact that he is there?"

"It's petty, isn't it?"

"Oh, I think you're beyond petty. Why did you offer if you didn't want him to actually accept?"

Bobby shrugged as he told him simply, "He's my best friend." After Logan only laughed at him and went back to filling out paperwork, he told him, "You know Eames was better at this than you are."

"That's because she's a woman. Us guys don't know how to give advice, unless it's about women."

Bobby rubbed at his head at that before looking around the department. He was getting antsy and frustrated and he didn't even want to be there. The spark in him was starting to fade and he didn't know if it had to do with the fact that he was exhausted and a little hung over or if it was because of the reason he was exhausted and a little hung over. It was probably both.

"Seriously, are you okay? You look a little rough around the edges there, Goren."

Nodding his head, Bobby looked back down at his desk and finally opened his binder. "I'm just tired."

He had made appointments for the friends and family of Terrence Hughes who caught the funeral on camera to come in that day. The first appointment was at ten; looking at his watch, he had two hours before Andrew Thomas was due to come in. Two hours, that gave him enough time to make some progress in the serial murder case. "I'm going down to the M.E.'s office."

"Want company?"

Bobby shrugged as he grabbed his binder as he bolted from his seat; he was hoping that the urgency in his movements would spark his enthusiasm. It hadn't. Taking the stairs down the to offices that were in the basement of the building, he felt the tension building once again in his knee. Last night he had really stressed out the injury by climbing the fire escape and now he was feeling the aftereffects. Ignoring the pain as always, he stepped off the last step and hurried down the long hallway and through the metal swinging doors into the autopsy room.

Eddie Kerr wasn't in there; instead, Brenda looked up from the female body on the slab and smiled at them. "Good morning, Detectives. I'm guessing you're here about her."

Bobby looked down at the body and nodded. Right at first glance he noticed a few new bruises that had formed on her body and face. The bruises on her face is what drew his attention. The bruises were spread over the left side of her face… "Those are, uh, fingerprints," he said while pointing to the bruising. "He used his left hand to cover her mouth." Placing his own hand over the victim's mouth, he was realized that the person who killed her had a wider hand width than he did. "He's a big guy…Wide hand width," he explained as he caught the look from Brenda.

She smiled and nodded as she went to roll the body onto its side. "Your big guy is branching out."

Bobby rounded the table so he could see her back; what he saw nearly froze him. She had been not only beaten severely on the back, but parts of her skin was missing. "This, it's, uh…not like the others."

"Maybe it's not the same guy."

Bobby only glanced up at Logan as he pulled out a pair of latex gloves before helping to turn the body completely on over. Looking down at the exposed back, he shook his head as he thought about the past victims. "No, it's him. With every victim there had been some form of escalation…some were minor changes, more bruising….others were major changes like changing how he sexually assaulted them. Now, he's combining it all. I'm guessing she was assaulted both vaginally and anally, correct?"

Brenda only nodded as she picked up a file off her desk and handed it to him. "No saliva or semen was left on her or in her, but she had evidence of recent vaginal and anal sex, both looked brutally done. There was also no evidence of lubricant associated with condoms."

"Could it have been done with an object?" Logan asked as he stayed in his position away from the body and against the wall.

"I'm not ruling anything out. Also, I sent blood out to toxicology, they should have results back by the end of the day."

"Anything in her stomach?" Bobby asked as he flipped through the file she had handed him. It contained the results of the autopsy as well as photos of the body, especially the back.

Brenda shook her head. "There wasn't a lot found, mostly acid and what smelled of alcohol. My guess is that she hadn't eaten much that day." Reaching for an arm, she pulled it up so he could look at it. "Needle tracks in her arm. Old and new, she as a frequent user."

Bobby had already seen the marks but he didn't let it show as he took them in again. "You did send out blood to test for STD's?"

"Of course. Anything else?"

Bobby looked over at Logan who shook his head. "No, that's it. Thanks Brenda."

"You're welcome, Bobby," she said in a soft, teasing voice that involuntarily caused him to glance back and smile at her for it.

Once out into the hallway, Logan stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. "What was that?"

Bobby was still looking over the photos from the autopsy as he asked, "What's what?"

"That look?"

Glancing up at Logan, Bobby frowned in confusion. He didn't know what Logan was talking about.

Logan glanced back toward the office before looking at him. "She was flirting with you, and you liked it."

"I was being kind," Bobby told him before he started for the stairs.

Logan followed but didn't back down as he told him, "No, you were enjoying it. You wouldn't leave her side and when she really turned it on, you had that look."

"And what look was that?" Bobby asked off-handedly as he started climbing the steps up to the third floor.

"That look that every man gets when he's interested in a woman flirting with them. If I hadn't been there, and we weren't working a case, I'm afraid of what you might've said or done."

"I'm with Alex, Logan, I wouldn't have done anything except what I just now did. I would've left."

"You're separated from Alex, that's a long way from being with her. And you still would've smiled and acknowledged her interest in you, which is provoking. You're leading her on."

Bobby finally snapped the file shut as he turned toward his partner. "She's a friend, and when is it a crime to have fun teasing another friend?"

"When it's not just innocent friendly teasing. And when did she exactly become a friend? Since you've been here you hadn't said more than two words to her. When did that change?"

Bobby groaned as he pulled open the door, even though it was the one to the second floor, and left the stairwell. He didn't feel like being interrogated by Logan any more and the stuffiness was getting to him, making his edgy. Heading past the Missing Persons and Violent Crimes department, he found the other staircase and headed up to the next floor where the Homicide department was.

Logan was already up there but he wasn't at their desks; Bobby spotted him in the Lieutenant's office and he wasn't looking too happy about being there. She must have called him in as soon as he got up to the floor. Someone else was in the room and as he caught the profile of the other man, Bobby suddenly grew worried. It was Garrison. Looking around the squad room, he spotted a few detectives glancing over at him and then toward the office.

Bobby rubbed at his neck a little, feeling the unease that crept up in him, as he started to pace outside the office.

Logan looked out of the window and spotted him. He shook his head a little before rolling his eyes. Then something was said to him and with Logan being Logan, he started going off on Garrison. Even though the door was closed, Bobby could hear Logan's muffled voice but not the words.

It wasn't long before the door was pulled open and Logan stormed out, heading right toward him. Bobby actually flinched at the anger that was masking Logan's features as he stalked over to the desk and sat down hard in the chair. He eyed Logan for a moment before hearing the door re-open and out walked Garrison. The IA officer looked over at them with a glare that would have made him nervous if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it was for show.

It was starting. Bobby watched as Garrison left before turning to Logan. Sitting down, he swirled his chair around, trying to get comfortable, before asking, "Should I ask?"

Logan shook his head before leaning across the desk and dropping his voice, "I think this was Garrison's way of telling me that I'm in. He was trying to say that my suspect in the club stabbing told him that I took drugs off him that didn't show up in evidence."

Bobby couldn't help but laugh a little. "He's good. Now, even if it can't be proven, the word will get around. Nice."

"Says you; I'm not comfortable with other cops thinking that I might be taking drugs off suspects."

"It's not unheard of, and they probably don't even think it's true anyway. Every drug dealer that's caught claims that either the stuff was planted or the cops stole half of it. And speaking of drug dealers, have you interrogated your suspect yet?"

"No," Logan told him. "I was actually wanting to discuss that with you. I think we should start feeling this corruption thing out."

Bobby picked up the phone to call his first interview of the day in as he smiled over at Logan. "Wanna play with the guy?"

"Oh yeah. Maybe we can turn up a snitch while we're at it. I've been thinking the case over and there's always a second guy."

"The guy he got his drugs from."

"Exactly. If we have to play bad cop, bad cop, then we're going need a third player."

Bobby couldn't help but smile; this was going to get fun.

"And stop smiling, it's creepy that you're enjoying this."

He really lost it then, and his laughter turned a few heads his way. Looking around as he swirled around in his chair, he spotted one of them being that of Jackson. The detective caught his eyes and shook his head, but he saw the smile before he turned away.

It took the rest of the morning and half of the afternoon to come to the conclusion that no one knew who the girlfriend of Terrence Hughes was and that there was only one person who got a good view of the girl that he had in the snapshot of last night Terrence was alive. She was tall, about five-eight, and she had brown hair and light eyes, possible blue, and she looked pale, almost ghostly; she was truly devastated by the death.

No one was able to tell him anything about her except that she was quiet and kept to herself during the whole funeral. They all thought she was a student from the school or a friend from the neighborhood. And no one had talked to her.

"How about this case. A body was found burned in an apparent arson a few months ago."

Bobby tossed the snapshots he had captured off Hanna Reagan's digital camera on his desk as he pulled out the chair and sat down. "Uh, I already looked at that case and there's nothing it for us to go off of. The body was burned beyond recognition and there were no hits off dental. Sullivan concluded that he was homeless and I actually agree with that assessment."

Logan tossed the file down and picked up another. Since he was about ready to close the Rockaway Club stabbing case, he was trying to find another case from Sullivan's open cases to work. "Here we go. Fifty-five year old male, Roger Gray, was found off Arthur Kill Road. M.E. found a bullet hole in his gut but no bullet."

Bobby looked up from making notes in his binder. "Sullivan didn't follow up on it?"

"Nope, he just made some indications in the file about no evidence, no suspects, so it was a no go on the case."

"How long ago was it?"

"It happened a little over a month ago. I might not be able to get anywhere with it but it sounds interesting."

Bobby nodded a he agreed. "I don't think we're really going to have much luck bringing Sullivan's solve rate up before the New Year. I actually think this is the Lieu giving us a hard time. Frustrating us with cases that go nowhere."

"I don't know. I'm about to close this one and you're making progress on yours. That's two out of eighteen. Only sixteen more to go, and three of them are linked to our present day Jack the Ripper case. We have a good chance at closing five or six of Sullivan cases plus the other eight for the serial case. That's pretty good."

Bobby put all his notes and photos and files into his binder before putting it in the top drawer of his desk. Looking over at Logan, he asked, "I think it's time to see how well your suspect sings."

Logan grinned as he tossed the file down and jumped up to follow him. "I'm guessing it's as good as a jailbird."

The holding cells only held a few people; a regular drunk that Bobby knew by name who was always getting locked up by either public intox or DUI, a known burglar who had a APB out for his arrest a few days ago, and sitting in a cell by his lonesome was the suspected murderer in Logan's case: Raymond Bradley.

"Mr. Bradley," Logan said as he motioned for the officer to come over and unlock the cell door. "It's your lucky day."

"I'm free," Raymond asked with surprise as he quickly got to his feet.

"No, but you do get a free car ride to county lockup."

Raymond's face paled as he shook his head. "I don't want to go. Can't I do my time here?"

Bobby glanced at Logan and saw in incredulous look on his face. Turning back to Raymond, he asked, "I'm guessing that this won't be your first time doing time, is that right, Ray?" When he didn't receive an answer that was when he got the answer. It was a yes.

It didn't take long to process the suspected killer out of their department. Logan went to go get the car as he stood with Raymond on the sidewalk. Bobby stared at the guy, even when it was obvious that it made the man entirely uncomfortable, he didn't take his eyes off him.

"Could you not do that?"

Bobby smirked at the fear and intimidation he was causing. "You better get used to people staring at you, Ray. You're going to prison."

"I didn't do it."

"That's not what my partner says, or thinks. If he says you did it, then you did."

Raymond didn't look at him as the car pulled up in front of them. Bobby opened the back door and pushed Ray down into the seat before slamming the door close. Getting inside the passenger side, Bobby nodded to Logan before he pulled away from the curb.

They were silent for a while, listening to their breathing and the silence that filled the car. Bobby looked over at Logan who glanced at him and gave him the nod before he took a turn that lead them away from direction that the Staten Island County Jailhouse was.

Raymond caught the turn and instantly voiced his fear. "Where are we going? County's the other way."

Bobby only looked at the guy as Logan continued to take them further out of the way. "We're going the long way, Ray." Looking stern and as intimidating as possible he told Ray, "It's not looking good for you. My partner got you on camera leaving the club."

"Along with hundreds of other people."

"You were the only one out of place. Why didn't you use the back exit? It was how you got in."

Raymond didn't answer right away as he asked instead, "Why does it matter what door I used? It was closer, okay."

"See there, that was a lie. Want to tell me the truth? Did it have something to do with who else was there?" Bobby took a shot in the dark with that question, but there wasn't too many reasons why the guy would lie about using a door.

Raymond started to blink faster as the muscle in his jaw twitched. He had been right, Ray wasn't alone.

"Who else was there? Your dealer?"

"No," Raymond said, his voice was rising as he turned his attention to Logan. "This isn't legal! You can't do this, what about my rights?"

"You rather do this at county?"

"I'm not talking to you!" Raymond yelled at him as the fear took hold.

"Your dealer was there, wasn't he, Ray. What's he going to tell us, huh? That you did it, you stabbed him!"

"Alan wasn't there!"

"Oh, so now we've got a name. Alan what?"

Raymond breathed out as he told him weakly, "Alan Cohen, but he wasn't there."

"So you killed him, panicked, and took off in the wrong direction-."

"No, no, that's not what happened."

"Yes it was, Ray. :He tried to skip out on paying that was it, wasn't it?"

"This is coercion, I'm under duress! You can't do this."

"We're police officers, there's always a level of duress. You just don't want to admit what you did."

"That's because I didn't do it! Alan did, okay!"

"Oh, so now your drug dealer was at the club and he killed the guy. See, I think you're lying Ray. I think you stabbed him when he wouldn't pay you for the drugs."

At that, Raymond's face paled as he blinked back at him. "I want a lawyer. I told you Alan did it, and that's the truth. I…I need a lawyer!"

Turning to Logan, Bobby told him sarcastically, "He needs a lawyer."

"Now? We're in a car. I don't think lawyers make roadside counsels."

"A priest might. Do you want a priest, Ray?" Bobby asked as he turned back to face him.

"Why would I want a priest?"

Bobby shrugged as told him, "He might be able to save your ass. We're a block from county lockup."

"I didn't kill him!"

"You were booked on possession, Ray. Drugs. When my partner brought you in you were higher than a kite. You're going away for something. Murder, drugs, and if you don't want to confess to any of those I think it just might be kiddy rape."

"Kiddy…" the panic flared in Raymond again at that allegation. "I didn't…I didn't rape no kid!"

"No, but if you don't give us something on this murder, I've got a rape of a five year old that someone needs to go down for."

Ray covered his face as he started to get more scared. "This is…man, this is bullshit. Okay…Okay! I killed him. He wouldn't pay, freaked out on me over the amount. We got into it and I grabbed my box cutter. It was self-defense, he came at me."

Bobby nodded as he turned back to Logan. "Ray, do me a favor, okay. A, uh, favor for a favor," he said as he turned back to the murderer. "Report me. When you get booked, tell them about this."

"Man, I'm not telling nobody about this."

"Ray, I asked you for a favor; you do this, then that means I'll owe you. Report me to IA. Even if they refuse to write an official report, tell them."

Raymond eyed him for a long moment before shaking his head. "What kind of cop wants to be reported to IA?"

Bobby didn't say anything else to the guy as Logan parked the car next to the back doors that led right into the holding cells of the building.

Logan was the one that got Raymond out of the car and took him into the building as he stayed in the car. As he waited for Logan to return, he lowered the window on the car as he pulled out a newly bought pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Lighting one, he waited until Logan returned before flicking it out into the snow.

Once Logan was in and started the car, Bobby said, "We need to find Alan Cohen."

"I think I know where we can start but it's going to have to wait until tonight."

Bobby nodded. "All right. Uh, drop me off at my car, I've got some stuff I need to follow up on with my case."

* * *

As he pulled up, he saw her outside on the small porch. She was sitting on the small porch swing, slightly swaying against the cold air that was blowing, kicking up the powdery snow that had fallen a last night. A thick quilt was wrapped around her body and as he stepped up on the porch, she pulled it tighter as she gave him a tight smile. She wasn't doing too good, and his presence there, even though he wasn't unwelcome, he was again a reminder to her that her son was gone and the person who killed him was still out there.

Bobby glanced around the yard at the telling signs that Heaven had been playing in the yard over the weekend. Snow angels littered the yard, and a small snowman was built by the steps yet it was lopsided and falling over, and only had the bottom and middle sections done. Frosty had yet to be given a head.

"She couldn't reach the top. I told her I'll help but she told me that she wanted to do it herself," Mrs. Hughes explained about the unfinished snowman as she stood. The woman was around the same age as him, if not a few years older, but she moved much slower, and had an older woman's demeanor about her that reminded him of his own mother.

He briefly wondered if she had always been that way, or if the deaths of both her husband and son had caused it. Not giving it too much thought because he knew if he did he would dwell on it, Bobby helped her across the slippery wet porch and into the house.

"So, Bobby, what brings you back here?" she asked as she sat down on the sofa.

Mrs. Hughes actually called him by his first name; it made him smile despite the despair he felt in his chest and head. He didn't know what it was about this case or this woman and her family, but he had let himself get attached. He had let himself feel way too deeply for this mother and her children. He had stopped thinking about the facts of the case as he thought more and more about the relationships, the pain, and the love that these people had and still have for one another. That was something he also refused to dwell on as he moved aside some magazines that were stacked on the sofa next to her and sat down next to her.

Resting his folded arms on his legs, he bent forward as he told her, "I'm getting close in finding out who, um, who your son was with that night. The girl, she was at his funeral."

Mrs. Hughes looked surprised but then the sadness once again took over as she asked, "She was? I don't, no…I don't remember her being there."

Bobby nodded his understanding. "She probably didn't make herself known, a lot of people there didn't remember her specifically. Your son, he had a lot of friends from school there, a lot of people cared about him. I'm not surprised that you don't remember one girl. But, she was there, and…I, uh, I think she might have signed the guest book."

"Oh," was what she said before she looked around the living room. Mrs. Hughes suddenly stood as she walked around, turning magazines and books over on the tables and then going to the bookshelf that was against the far wall. "I think it's here, somewhere. - wrote a lot of thank you notes...I must've also wrote her one if she's in it."

Bobby watched as the woman searched nearly in a daze around her living room. She was sinking. He could not only see it in her, but feel it radiating off her. Her strength was dying with each passing day that came with no answers. Almost a month had gone by since her son's death and it was finally hitting her. The hoping and then the thought of finally having closure and now, back to hoping. Hope was turning into despair. Her hope was fading with each passing hour, day, and week. It took a month for the reality to set in, for the world to crush her.

Why it didn't happen a month ago, he wasn't sure. Maybe her daughter had something to do with giving her strength, but now not even that little girl could save her. A month ago, prayers could still be answered. He wondered if she believed in those prayers now or if time without receiving any answers destroyed that belief, like it had for him.

Mrs. Hughes had gone down the hallway and she didn't come back. Getting up off the sofa, he ventured further into the house and toward the rooms he had yet to see. The first room he came to was Heaven's. It was decorated in pinks, yellows, and baby blue seemed to be the favorite color of the girl. Disney posters were scattered haphazardly around the walls and they were hung low, not more than three feet from the floor. Heaven had insisted on putting them up herself. Despite the room being that of a five year old, it was neat and clean.

The room right across the hallway was closed. Hanging on the door was a basketball jersey; the name stenciled on the back read 'Hughes'. Bobby took a breath before gripping the doorknob and turning it; as he pushed it open and stepped into the teenagers room, he let out the breath of air, feeling himself shake.

Terrence favored the color blue as well, but it was a darker shade and it was everywhere. The bedding was blue, the paint on the walls, even clothes that were thrown over the room held some sort of blue in the pattern or design. The scattering of clothes was a contrast to the other objects in the room. Books were stacks neatly into piles on the selves, CD's were arranged by group, singer, or band on the rack while the DVD's were in alphabetical order on the television stand. The Play Station and all its games were stowed neatly at the bottom of the TV stand. Except for not caring about where he hung his clothes, he took good care of his things.

"He hated doing laundry."

Bobby glanced over his shoulder at Mrs. Hughes as he smiled and gestured around the room. "I can tell."

"That was the only thing I got on him about, putting up his clothes. But, he was always moving. He would get home from school, change clothes, then go right back outside to play hoops or hang out with his friends. Whenever I told him to clean them up, he always said he was too tired, or they were clean and he'll take care of it later. I always hoped he would grow out of that phase."

Bobby pushed open the closet door and looked around at the clothes that actually were hung up and the assortment of sports equipment on the top shelf. Next to the equipment were model airplanes, rockets, and engine parts. He wondered why a boy who wanted to be an engineer of those things kept his models hidden in the closet. "He never would," he said as he looked back at her. "I was the same way…still am, I guess."

"You're a cop; everyone expects you to look like you were woken up from your desk by a ringing phone." In her arms she was clutching the guest book from Terrence's funeral. Mrs. Hughes looked down at it before pulling it away from her chest. "I found it; it was in my room…on my nightstand."

Bobby waited until she moved closer to him and offered it to him before he told her, "I'm not going to take it, I just need to find her name." Looking down at the book, he suggested, "If…I think I'm going to need help in finding it. I don't know all of his friends, family…"

She looked up at him and nodded as the tears welled in her eyes. Moving over to his bed, she sat down and slowly opened it, exposing all the names of all the people that cared enough about her son to pay their respects. With each name, she told him about that person. There were cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, schoolmates, and tons and tons of friends. That kid knew everyone it seemed that went to his school. Overall there had been eighty-two people there that day. Not all of them could stay, and some only came to the service by not the burial. Of all the names, there was only one that Mrs. Hughes didn't know. One name she had never heard her son mention before; one name that belong to a girl that did not go to his school or lived in his neighborhood.

Elizabeth Anne Miller.

There was no address, no phone number, nothing but a name. A name was all he needed.

TBC..


	10. The best corrupted sonsofbitches

A/N: This is the first story in which I have a lot of characters doing a lot of different things. I did this for a number of reasons, but the most specific one was to make each side story as important as the overall main one. For this reason alone, I'm very tempted in revealing who I have in mind for each part, which I usually don't do. I just allow your own imaginations to rule your minds like it does mine. However, I feel like with IA Officer Garrison becoming a major character, and the fact that I have a certain person in my head as playing his part, I thought I would share. I see him as being portrayed by the actor Kyle Secor. All of you VDO lovers out there should know him as Det. Tim Bayliss from the show 'Homicide: Life on the Streets' seeing how VDO was in the amazing episode from that show called 'The Subway'.

If you want to know who else I have in mind for other characters because it'll make it easier for you to visualize, then let me know.

Okay, enjoy.

* * *

The call wasn't early. It was late, very, very late. It was dark in the empty parking lot of the old Catholic church. To one side of the church there was an open field and then a dense wooded area. To the other side was the backyards of a quiet neighborhood. And right across the street was a vacant rundown parking lot that was across from a funeral home.

"Isn't it funny how a house of God can be built in such close proximity to a house of death? The circle of life, right across the street from each other."

Bobby stared up at Garrison as he approached from across the parking lot. The IA officer drove a nice 2004 Lincoln Towncar. His tan overcoat looked Armani, the same with his suit. His short-cut hair was growing out, revealing the grey in the otherwise young looking man, along with a nicely trimmed goatee on his face. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were on the take."

Garrison smiled as he came to a stop in front of him. "I know how to managed my money; the same as you. Your suits don't come cheap either, nor the Mustang you drive, or the apartment you live in."

Bobby pushed himself off the car as he started to feel cornered, and angry that the guy knew so much about him.

"How's it going, Logan?" Garrison asked.

Logan had yet to say anything as he sat on the hood of the car. He shrugged and turned away, looking toward the open field.

"He's pissed that you have him as a drug stealing lowlife."

"I didn't know I would be hurting anyone's feelings. If you want I can take you off this operation, if that'll help."

Logan looked over at Garrison and in as much bitter and resentment as he could, told him, "I'm good with it."

"I'm glad to hear it." Turning back to him, Garrison asked, "Want to know why I know you're not corrupted, Bobby. Logan, you might get a kick out of this. Your partner here won, what was it? Three thousand playing cards, right? Well, let me back up just a sec, three thousand was what he _took_ from the casino, but he actually won, get this, _seventy-five_ thousand."

Logan turned to him in confusion as he heard that. "You won seventy-five thousand dollars?"

"Yes, he did. See, Logan, while you were chasing your luck spinning a ball around in circles, Bobby here was racking in the dough. He had in the first half-hour, what was it? Forty thousand?"

Bobby felt the unease once again twist in his gut at where this was going; he was also ready to hit Garrison just to keep the guy from talking, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had to play the game now.

Garrison looked right at him as he said, "I guess you really are like the rest of your family when it comes to gambling, hey, Bobby."

That nearly did it. Bobby stepped up to Garrison, and with as much restraint as possible, said, "I'm nothing like them. You hear me, nothing."

"Who's he talking about?" Logan suddenly asked behind. "Your brother?"

"Leave it alone, Logan," Bobby asked before leaning into Garrison. "What's this have to do with anything anyway, huh? Do you just want to entice me, see how hard you have to push?"

"No, I know exactly how hard to push you. And I know _who _I can use to get the best results. I am IA, I have access to all kinds of information. Like videotapes of interrogations, interviews that you've conducted throughout your entire career. I found out through a few how best to play you, if, and only if, _you_ entice _me_."

Bobby's hands clenched so hard his nails dug into his skin. Pacing back-and-forth, he fought every part of his being to not slam one of those fists into the man who was standing before him. Finally, he stepped back and looked at Logan who was off the car and looking ready to go at it with Garrison if something were to go down. "I, uh, I gave it back. That's what took me so long at the table. The last hour, I lost it all back to the casino."

"On purpose?" Logan asked, stunned.

"Yeah, on purpose."

Garrison was smiling at that. "I believe it to be integrity. Honor, truth, a deeply seeded keen sense of right and wrong. Yeah, that sounds about right. You have it all the way down to the core, don't you, Bobby? The thing is, what you were doing wasn't even illegal. You could have taken the money and no one would have cared. Instead, after you felt for an hour how good it was to win and win big, you got to feel how it was to lose it all, willingly. That's why I knew you weren't a dirty cop. If you couldn't even take money legally, then there was no way you was taking it by any other means."

Bobby leaned back against the car, crossed his arms, and said, "Is this why you brought us out here? To tell me something I already know."

"I just find it interesting, that's all. You know, I like taking an interest in why the detectives I investigate do what they do. Why they cross that line. Is it strictly for the money? The power? Is it because of life issues…problems that's going on in the cops life, that sort of thing. In a way, like you, I'm also a profiler. I like to know the why. It also helps to know the why when I have to set up reasons why you two go bad. And how. You feel me?"

Bobby leaned back against the car as he waited for Garrison to continue. Much like him, Garrison had an arrogance about him that dominated his not only his work but his attitude. And also like him, the guy liked to talk. "Yeah, I feel you. So, what's our reasons?"

Garrison smiled at that before answering, "I think you already know what yours are. You're basically already living it. Logan is the only one that was hard to figure out. He's been here for ten years, and as far as everyone knows, he's been clean the whole time. So, why now? Why go bad after all this time? I blame Bobby, personally."

"Huh," Logan huffed out a laugh. "Are you expecting the guys to believe that I've been corrupted by him," he said as he pointed to him. "That's a stretch. No one will believe it."

"They will if they think you've been doing things this whole time, just on the down-low. Goren comes along, he's breaking and everyone can see it. He's desperate, you actually are the one that corrupts him. You need someone, um, with Bobby's capabilities to get more things done. He's like the brains of the outfit."

Bobby had to hurry to hold Logan back as he advanced on Garrison.

"Are you saying I'm not smart enough-"

"Whoa-whoa, I didn't say anything about intelligence. I said capabilities. Bobby's, he's creative. Manipulative. He has a way of thinking that's not, well, let's just say he can work it a lot better than you could on your own."

Bobby could feel the rise and fall of Logan's chest as his anger calmed. Letting Logan go, he turned to Garrison and said, "And you think this will actually work?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have fought so hard to convince the Chief to bring Logan in. He doesn't like you," Garrison told Logan before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out an envelope. "In it you'll find two cell phones and a list of names. The phones are for contacting me only. No one else has the numbers and no one else will be called on them."

Bobby dropped the phones into his hand and handed one to Logan as he pocketed the other. Pulling out the piece of paper, he unfolded it and glanced over the list. "These are all cops."

"That is a list of all the cops we think are involved in this. Gentlemen, meet the names of your new best friends. As you can see, there are at least three or more in every department on the island. Domestic, Violent Crimes, Missing Persons, Narcotics, Homicide, and yes, even Patrol."

Logan took the paper from him and looked it over. "Jeez…there's at least thirty names on here."

"And there could be more. Hell, I know there's more. Guys I haven't been able to get anything on yet, like lab techs. Do you know how hard it is to prove that some test was done negligently, or that the results were faked? It's nearly impossible. Tests get screwed up all the time; the lab is small so some stuff sits on the shelf for weeks, months, before analyzed and who knows if evidence was planted. Chain of custody isn't always accurate."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he watched Logan. This was getting to him, he could read the fear and uncertainty on his face. Yet, in his eyes, Logan was stern, solid. He was in it for the long haul. "And, uh…What, uh, what are you looking at them for?"

"Everything you can think of," Garrison said in all seriousness. "Stealing and distributing narcotics along with prescription drugs, stealing drug money, taking bribes, excessive force, coercion, extortion, fraud, falsify evidence, and my personal favorite, murder. They are all working together, collaboratively. Each department looks out for one another, and they use the tools and skills they have to do a damn good job at getting away with it. If a guy is murdered by one of them, the boys from Homicide take the case and they ensure that nothing comes of it. Someone comes up missing, guess what, Missing Persons takes it. When drugs go missing from evidence, Narco along with Patrol make sure that it all looks like a clerical error, or just some dealer making false accusations. The list goes on and on."

He was right. Bobby breathed out as he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. This was going to go deep. This was going to cause problems. This was going to get bloody. "How far do you want us to take this?"

"That depends. How far are you willing to go?"

Bobby glared up at Garrison. Breathing into his palm, he dropped his hand away from his mouth as he straightened off the car. He knew the moment he agreed to do this how far he was willing to go. Stepping up to Garrison, he told him, "I'll do whatever it takes. I don't want anyone to walk on this…Everyone goes down."

"Then if I'm understanding you correctly, you have no problem with getting in as deeply as I need you. You have no problem doing things I normally bust corrupt cops for. To get in good with these guys, you have to play dirty, do dirty, and get dirty. Can you do that? You have to ask yourself if you can take money? If you can take drugs? If you can beat the shit out of some lowlife for trying to cheat you out of a deal? Well, Mister Integrity, can you?"

Bobby looked down at the ground as he felt the shifting currents within him. He had done it before; being with Narcotics, it was a dangerous and crazy world, but he survived it and he had gotten through it without sinking too low. He had never paid off informants. He had never battered a suspect. Yeah, he had gotten mad enough to hit a guy a few times. He had tossed some guys around, but never used excessive force. He had never abused his power, his shield. Taking a breath, he looked up at Garrison and gave a nod. "Yeah, no problem."

"Whoa, hold up," Logan said, stepping in-between the two of them. "I need to talk to you, privately."

Garrison held up his hands and turned around. Walking over to his car, he got in, started the engine, but he didn't leave. Bobby watched as he closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat.

"What?" he asked Logan once they were alone.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean really do this? I am because I'm already here. I'm already stuck on this island with no way back and I've got nothing to lose. This is a lot to take on. Not just the lying and the keeping secrets, but…It's, I think this is going to get bad, Goren. I can feel it."

"I can feel it too, and I'm the one that brought you into this. I know what I'm doing, Logan. I'm not some rookie half-cocked and looking to prove his worth. I've been through this kind of thing before, I know how it works and I know what it means and I know what it takes."

"I'm just saying that I know where you're coming from. You feel like this is it, right? Your one and only shot at getting back to where you belong, back to Major Case. Maybe even back to your life because here you feel stuck and trapped, maybe even isolated. Away from everyone and thing that you used to know so damn well and relied on. These streets aren't familiar to you, and the people here, you don't know them. You can't trust them. I get that because ten years ago I was in the exact same boat that you're in now. I also had my shot six years ago. A case almost exactly like the serial case we've got now. A dead hooker and a dirty cop mixed in with it. That cop turned out to be a very good friend of mine. And now here you are, fighting for that same thing, that redemption that will get you back there. It didn't happened for me. Yeah, I got be to be a Homicide detective again, but it wasn't in Manhattan, it was here. For six years I've dealt with it. Six years I've tried to make it work, I tried to not feel bitter and pissed off at the world, and so far I've been able to make it. I was fine until you came along. Now that fire is lit under my ass again. I'm thinking maybe this is my second chance. I don't want to lose that. And I sure as hell don't want to lose another partner to this shit because he's so blinded by what he wants that he can't see two feet in front of him. And I don't want your blind obsession to get in the way of this turning out successful."

Bobby stared at Logan at a sudden lose of what to say. He was desperate but not to the point of being blinded by it. At least, that was what he told himself. "This is why I need you. This is why I don't want to do this alone. If…if I do start to lose my way, I'm going to need help finding my way back. I'm going to need my partner."

Logan seemed shocked by that admission, but also grateful. He nodded as he told him, "All right. We're in this together, all the way up until the smoke clears and the last corrupt cop drops. You got that."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Good, because I don't want to have to say it again."

Bobby looked away from Logan and toward the car where the IA officer was sitting. Pulling out his new cell phone, he called the only number programmed into the phone.

Garrison leaned up in the car and dug around his pocket until he pulled out the phone. Answering he said, "Hello?"

"You can come out now."

Garrison turned toward him and rolled his eyes before hanging up the phone. Getting out of the car, he called over to him, "Was that necessary?"

"I have to make sure it works," Bobby teased lightly; he was still irritated with the guy.

Logan turned away from him and eyed Garrison as he approached them again. "Okay. If you want us to be bad then we'll be the best corrupted sons-of-bitches you've ever seen."

"Great, I'm glad to see that you two have come to an agreement. Now, for my part. Everything you guys do, everything that comes through IA with the names Robert Goren or Michael Logan on it, it all comes directly to me. I control what goes into the files and I control what stays out. I control what the brass knows, what the snitches know, and what other dirty cops know. I am your source to everyone and everything you can possibly need. I'm your God. Deal?"

Bobby nodded as he held out his hand. "Deal."

After shaking hands, Garrison grinned as he headed back toward his car. Opening the driver door, he turned to him as he said, "Oh, and just like God, I'll be watching."

* * *

It was a normal, quiet friendly looking neighborhood. Cars lined the street in front of the houses that were all decorated for the approaching holiday. The yards were all a glimmering white blanket of snow, and there wasn't a single thing about the house they were watching that told them that a drug dealer lived there with his girlfriend.

Bobby relaxed back against the seat as he opened the box of Chinese food they had picked up. Using the chopsticks, he started eating as he watched the house through the windshield of the car. "What time does he usually make his rounds?"

"Could be now, could be hours. I'm not sure. I just know that he doesn't leave until after his girl gets home from work. Her shift ended at the deli an hour ago. We've got time."

Bobby nodded a little but didn't respond. He was exhausted, having been unable to sleep for the past couple of days. Soon he knew he would crash, it was inevitable. The fatigue would finally catch up with him and it would dull his racing mind and overactive movements. But, for now, he was wide awake and ready to go, to react, to whatever the next couple of hours would bring.

"So," Logan finally said after a long couple minutes of silence, "you worked narcotics."

"For four years," he absently told as he took the time to observe the whole neighborhood, getting a sense of his surroundings and possible routes Alan might take if he spotted them. If he decided to run.

"Were you any good?"

"According to my Lieutenant, I was the best he ever saw, especially at the undercover work. He didn't want me to leave." Bobby wasn't trying to gloat, but the question begged the answer.

"Then that leaves me to have no doubts about you pulling this off. So far you're scaring me. Kind of makes me wonder."

Bobby looked over at Logan as he picked up his diet coke and took a drink. "Wonder? Like…if I'm actually dirty?"

"No, not that; it makes me wonder if you've ever thought about it. I don't know how to fake this without making it look painfully obvious what I'm trying to do. The way you're doing it, it's, I don't know." He was quiet a moment before acknowledging, "One of the reasons Garrison pissed me off was because I knew he was right. When it comes to this, you're a hell of a lot smarter than I am. It's cleaver. The corruption, it's there but it's not, you know."

Bobby returned to watching the house as he told him, "I take that as a compliment."

"Well, have you?"

Bobby shook his head as he answered, digging his chopsticks into the quart of chicken and fried rice. "Yeah, but never for myself."

Logan looked over him at that; the questioning was in his eyes and Bobby had to smile a little.

"I'm a profiler, remember. Getting into the heads of criminals and thinking like they do is what I do best. It shouldn't surprise you that I've been thinking, even dreaming, about how to be a corrupt cop. It changes my whole…uh, demeanor, and I can't help that."

"But you've never crossed the line before?"

"Define crossing the line? I've…um, I've been known to, uh…manipulate suspects, to trick them. Some see it as a bad thing, some as a good thing. As long as I don't violate their rights, and what I get is the truth, there's no problem."

"What? Some partners? The brass?"

"Both."

Logan was quiet for a moment and Bobby could actually hear him thinking; he also knew what was going to be said next and he wasn't surprised as the words came out of Logan's mouth. "You know, you still haven't answered the question."

Bobby finally looked over at Logan as he hesitated in his answer, "Yeah, a few times. I crossed the line and then, I lost my way. That's why I'm here."

"Same here I guess; the only time I took it too far I got sent here too."

Bobby glanced over at his partner before telling him, "So, that's how all these corrupted bastards ended up here, the Chief."

Logan started laughing. "We should bring that up to Garrison at our next meeting."

Bobby felt the laughter shake his chest as he let himself, for just a second, feel happy. After a moment, and the laughter died down, he told Logan, "Anyway, I'm hoping this will change that, us being here."

Logan look over at him. "What're you talking about?"

Bobby had yet to tell Logan about the other part of the deal he made with IA; he didn't want to try to tempt Logan into doing something he didn't want to do, but now that he was doing it and willingly, he felt it okay to tell him. "I made a deal with the Chief of D's. If we both do this, and succeed, then he'll see about getting us both off this damn island."

Logan was silent for a moment before saying, "I can see you making a deal to go back to Major Case, where does that leave me, exactly?"

Bobby looked over at Logan, shrugging, he told him, "I was thinking Major Case as well. Be nice to have you there."

Logan was speechless. It was unnerving to him a little to see the sudden gratitude that filled his partners eyes before he said in disbelief, "You went to bat for me? I can't…No partner has done that for me since Lennie."

"Uh…Lennie Briscoe?"

"You know him?"

Bobby nodded as a small smile tugged at the edges of his lips. "Me and Eames, we worked a case years ago and, uh, we utilized the help of him and his partner Ed Green. Good guys, good cops."

"Yeah, good ol' Lennie. He was the best."

They turned silent after that, both of them eating their dinner and thinking, watching. It was nearly an hour later when the lights to the house went out before the front door opened. Bobby sat up straight in the seat as he watched as Alan Cohen got into his dark sedan and pulled away from the curb. Logan shifted the car into drive and at a safe distance they followed.

Alan led them through every type of neighborhood on the island. The poor, the middle classes, and the wealthy. The guy knew everyone, dealt to everyone, and collected from everyone.

"This guy gets around," Logan said after Alan made a deal with Ryan James; he was a news anchor for the local news channel. "Huh, I always like that guy. He made the news worth listening to. Even the bullshit."

Bobby shook his head. "Probably because he's hyped up on crack."

"Hum, makeup hid it well."

Five minutes later, Alan was parking on a side street in a middle class neighborhood. He sat in the car for a long time. Bobby counted off seven minutes before Alan got out, with a small backpack over his shoulder and a Yankees ball-cap now covering his long dark blond hair that came down to his shoulders, before heading down the street.

"Where's he going?"

"Better question is what does he got in that bag," Bobby said as Logan went to put the car into park. "Wait, I think now's the best time to get him."

"Now?"

"Yeah; drive up beside him."

Logan was hesitant at first before shifting the car back into drive. "I hope you know what you're doing, because I sure as hell think we should wait until he goes home."

"That bag will be long gone if we wait until then." Bobby told him before rolling his window down. Alan was walking down the side of the street that was closest to him. Coming up beside the Alan, Bobby leaned on the door as he asked, "Hey! You're Alan Cohen aren't you?"

Alan stopped walking as he looked over at him, in confusion at first.

"You're Alan, right?"

Then the realization kicked in because Alan turned and ran. In the opposite direction. Bobby was out of the car and chasing after him before Logan even had time to stop the car completely. "Stop! Police!" He yelled even though he knew it was useless, but he had to identify himself for legal purposes.

Alan wasn't a fast runner, but he was still a little quicker than he was. Running on wet snow and ice wasn't fun and it was hard to gain any ground, but Bobby kept pounding pavement as he kept his focus solely on the man running from him in a panic.

They got to the side street where Alan parked and Bobby was afraid that the guy would get to his car before he could get to him. To his surprise, Alan didn't run to his car. He passed right by it before jerking to his left and headed down the long alleyway behind the houses. Bobby took the turn and immediately ducked as a beer bottle was thrown at his head. The other bottle came right at his face and he had to use his hand to bat it away. The glass broke against the side of his hand and he barely registered the pain before he had to dodge out of the way of fallen trash cans that Alan had knocked down, trying to block his path, or to make him trip.

It was getting harder to breathe in the ice cold air as he continued running; he wasn't about to let Alan get away or out of his sight. The desperation in Alan to get away matched his own to catch him and Bobby would run until his body gave if he had to. And it seemed that Alan was willing to make him do just that.

Bobby lost Alan for a split second as he disappeared around a garage, slowing to a stop to avoid a mistake like rounding the corner and meeting a beer bottle to his head, he eased around the corner. Alan had jumped the fence and was darting across the yard. Jumping the chain-linked fence, Bobby hit the snowy ground and nearly lost his footing before scrambling up to his a feet and taking off on a dead run after Alan.

This guy was really starting to make him angry and the pain in his knee and in his hand was only igniting that anger more. Alan pushed open the gate and ran down the front yard before crossing the street, and then between two houses. Bobby wasn't far behind but Alan had gained some ground on him when he had almost lost his footing after jumping the fence.

Bobby was suddenly knocked out of his tunnel vision and desperation as he heard the radio that was clipped to his belt crackle before he heard Logan's voice.

"One-two-eight Charlie…Goren, what's your twenty?"

Bobby reached behind his back to grab the radio as he continued to keep his eyes on Alan who was jumping another damn fence. _Fuck. _This guy was pushing his luck that once he was caught he didn't make him pay from having to make him run. Abandoning getting the radio, he had to use both hands to scale the fence. Up ahead, about four houses down, he saw a tall seven foot wooden-planked fence and hoped that Alan wouldn't be able to get over the top of it before he got to him.

"Talk to me, Goren! What's your twenty?"

Bobby ignored his pleading partner's voice on the radio as he watched as Alan grabbed the top of the wooden fence but he wasn't fast enough at pulling himself up. He grabbed the legs that kept slipping on the wood and pulled.

Alan screamed as he held onto the top of the fence with everything he had. He tried kicking at him, and a few kicks landed on his shoulder and his upper chest, but Bobby was just as furious to get him off the fence as Alan was at getting caught.

"Get the fuck off me!"

Bobby gripped the guy around his waist with his left arm as he grabbed onto the backpack with his right, and then he yanked back hard. Alan lost his grip and Bobby threw him down into the yard.

Alan hit the ground hard; groaning at the pain, he held up his hands. "Alright, alright I'm down!"

"Not yet you're not," Bobby growled as he grabbed Alan's jacket and pulled him to his feet before tossing him back against the fence. With his bloody left hand fisted, he cocked his arm back before landing a solid blow to Alan's right temple.

Alan's head snapped back and hit the fence before dropping to the ground like he had no bones in his body. He was out like a light and there was no getting up.

Bobby looked down at Alan and breathed out hard before looking around the backyard, toward the house. All the lights were out and there seemed to be no one up or home. Reaching around his back, he finally answered his partner. Breathing out hard, he told Logan where he was.

It wasn't long before he heard Logan coming up the side of the house with his gun out. Looking at him, Bobby yelled, "Where were you?"

Logan holstered his weapon as he glared at him. "What'd you mean where was I? Where'd you think? I was in the car and I lost you! I can't drive through houses you know."

"Why weren't you behind me! You should've ditched the car!"

"I didn't think he was going to run all over God's green acre! I thought he was going to jump in his car."

"Just…get him up and into the car," he told him as he started to walk to the front of the house.

Behind him he heard Logan tell the unconscious Alan, "Thanks for pissing him off, now I've got to deal with him like this for the rest of the night."

Bobby was halfway to the car when he felt the jolt of pain rip up his leg from his knee before it gave out. He caught himself on a tree that lined the sidewalk as he grabbed his leg. Trembling against the pain, he did his best to rub the burning pain out of it despite knowing it wouldn't work. He had pushed it with chasing after Alan for that long of a period of time and jumping fences.

Making it to the car with a very noticeable limp, he turned and saw Logan watching him even though nothing was said. "Give me the bag," he told Logan as he opened the front door. Turning the key, he started the car before pushing the trunk button. Grabbing the backpack from Logan, he took it with him as he rounded the car and lifted the trunk hood. Tossing the backpack in it, he grabbed the first aid kit before slamming the hood.

Getting into the car, he began pulling glass fragments out of his hand. They rode in silence the entire drive back to the department while Alan Cohen laid unconscious on the backseat.

* * *

His knee was killing him. Bobby laid his head down on his desk as he continued to rub at his leg. It was throbbing and pulsing, like he had pulled a muscle, which he probably had, and it radiated a heat all the way up his leg. Hearing someone come up next to him, he opened his clenched eyes and looked up to see Logan.

Logan dropped a bag of ice onto the desk before saying, "The ice will make it feel better."

"No, a glass of scotch will make it feel better."

Logan chuckled as he sat down at his desk before saying, "Sorry, they were all out of the good stuff in the break room."

Bobby took the bag of ice and placed it on his upper thigh, where the muscle was hurting, and sighed. All the ice was doing was numbing his leg and making him cold. The pain wasn't going to go away. "So, how's Alan holding up?"

"He's awake, barely, and asking for his lawyer. That's who I'm waiting on now. Once he gets here, I can get my go at him."

Nodding slightly, Bobby slid down in the chair and leaned back, letting his own eyes close against the exhaustion that was setting in.

"The Lieu asked about his eye."

Bobby peered over at Logan through half-closed eye lids as he listened. He knew Logan had no problem with what he had done. Alan had evaded custody and assaulted a police officer; he had every right to hit the guy for it.

"Told her the truth, he ran, you gave chase, he assaulted you and you responded to that assault. All she had to do is look at your hand."

Bobby looked toward her office but saw that the lights were out and the door was shut. "She gone for the night?"

"She left after I talked to her. Said something about her kid's birthday and missing it. I don't know." Logan sat silent for a moment before telling him, "You should get that hand checked out. There still might be glass fragments in it."

"I will, later. After we talk to Alan."

"No," Logan told him with a sternness that Bobby had yet to hear from him. "This isn't your case, remember. You were just helping me. You can go get your hand looked at now, and while you're at it, you should get something for your knee."

Bobby felt the will to argue slip away as the fatigue was starting to cloud his mind. All he could manage was a glare before sitting up in the seat and pushing himself up to his feet. Looking over at Logan, he accusingly told him, "You should have been there."

Logan was barely able to control his own anger as he sat back in the chair. "Oh, I should have? I would've been if you had responded to my repeated calls."

"Then I would have lost him, like you lost me."

"Hey, at least you got the guy. Why are you so upset anyway?"

"Because you shouldn't have lost me! Who knows what could have happened before you finally found me. You should have ditched the damn car."

"Fine! Next time I will, all right."

Bobby suddenly felt the fight leave him just as quickly as it had kicked in. Tossing the bag of ice down on Logan's desk, he turned and stalked off, heading to the elevator. Looking around, he spotted the other detectives and officers watching him as he left. He hadn't known why he was so upset with Logan. He just was. Logan was his partner and he was in a dangerous situation where anything could have happened and…And Logan should have ditched the damn car. That was the only thought in his head as he stared at the floor as the elevator doors closed.

She was in Kerr's office, filing some papers, when he walked into the room. Looking up at him, Brenda smiled before she saw his hand. The smile immediately faded as she walked over to him. "What happened?"

"I, uh, I hit a beer bottle. You, um…You know how to do stitches, right?"

Brenda gave him a look before saying, "Of course, just not on anything living. Come here."

He followed her into a room off the autopsy room that held a few stainless steel table used for examinations.

She grabbed a chair and rolled it over to a table and patted it. "Sit."

Bobby took off his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair before sitting down. Undoing his tie all the way, he pulled it off his neck and stuffed it into one of the jacket pockets before un-cuffing the sleeve to his tan dress shirt. Part of the cuff was stained with dried blood and he knew that it wasn't going to come out. He was going to have to buy a new shirt. Rolling his sleeve up to his elbow, he watched as Brenda obtained the necessary tools she needed before pulling another chair over and sitting down across from him.

Reaching up, she adjusted the magnifying glass that was attached to the table and pulled it down over top of his hand before flicking on the overhead light. Slowly, and as carefully as she could, Brenda undid the bandaging. "This looks nasty. How come you didn't go to the ER?"

"I didn't feel like waiting around for hours. Is it infected?"

"No, not yet. There's some glass fragments I need to take out," she told him as she picked up a set of long medical tweezers. "Do you want a shot to numb the area?"

"You're giving me a choice," he said, teasing her. "Most women just tell me what to do."

Brenda laughed as she focused on his hand. "I knew it would be a no. I'll be gentle, promise."

Bobby nodded a little as he watched her work on his hand. She got the piece of glass out without causing him too much pain in the process. Nothing could match the pain in his knee so he barely felt the probing of the tweezers into his hand. After cleaning the small puncture wounds and one deep, inch long cut, she got out the stitching needle and glanced up at him.

"Now, this is going to hurt. Are you sure you don't want anything?"

Bobby nodded. "I'm sure."

"You know, you don't have to prove anything to me. Trying to be strong for a woman all the time is the most stupidest thing men do. It's okay to show weakness, especially when something hurts."

"I'll try to remember that, next time."

"Suit yourself, just don't say I didn't warn you."

With the first prick of the needle, Bobby bit his bottom lip and gripped the side of the table, hard.

"I'll stop."

"No, it's okay."

"Bobby, you can go to the ER and get better treatment. The needle is all I have, you can get-"

"Would you please just hurry up and stitch my hand already. I'm not changing my mind, understand." Bobby hadn't meant to snap at the woman, she was only expressing her concern, but he didn't have time to go to the ER. "Please?" he quickly asked, trying to ease that look of concern and shock off her face, and to hurry things along.

"Okay, but I'm giving you the shot to numb it." Brenda left no room for argument as she pulled out a long needle with a clear liquid in it. The shot stung only for a moment before a wave of numbness spread through his hand and half of his arm.

"I think you gave me too much. I can't feel my elbow."

Brenda chuckled as she readjusted the light and started stitching his hand up. "So, why did you hit a beer bottle?"

"If I hadn't it would have ended up in my face. Getting glass out of my hand was a hell of a lot better option than getting it out of my eyes and face."

Brenda looked up at him in shock. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Bobby only nodded before returning his focus on watching her work.

"What happened to the guy who did it?"

"He's upstairs in holding."

Brenda actually smiled a little. "Glad to hear it. Some cops would have made sure the other guy ended up in the ER worse off than they were."

"You know cops like that?"

"Only a few."

"Anyone here?"

Brenda glanced up at him and shook her head. "I haven't been here long enough to know."

Bobby took that in before he said more quietly, "You knew in Jersey."

She finished up his hand and straightened in the chair. "All done. I'll get you some antibiotic ointment to put on it and some clean bandages. Be right back."

Bobby watched as she left the room. She had evaded answering the question. That meant he had been right, and that she didn't want to talk about it. How did a once Biology teacher know about ruthless cops? She could have cops in her family, or been involved with one.

Brenda came back into the room and handed the bandage and tube of ointment to him. "I've got to get back to work. I'm certain with your excellent job of bandaging your own hand last time, you'll have no problem now. And I still think you should have an x-ray done, I could have missed some small piece."

"I'm sure it's fine. Thanks."

Only giving him a nod she turned and left, leaving him thinking and wondering while he bandaged his hand.

When he returned to his desk, Bobby noticed a small brown paper bag sitting on top of it. Looking around, he didn't see Logan anywhere. Eyeing the bag, he sat down at his desk. There was a white folded piece of notepad paper stapled to the front of it. Pulling it off, he unfolded the paper. It read: 'Hope this helps. Jackson.'

Bobby frowned as he opened the bag and peered into it. Getting up, he took the bag with him as he made his way to the break room. As he was hoping, it was empty. Opening the bag once more, he dumped the small prescription bottle in his hand. There was no label telling him what the pills were, but he could formulate a pretty good guess.

He popped off the lid and tapped out a single pill into his palm before pocketing the bottle. After taking out a water bottle from the refrigerator, he went back out to his desk. The book he need was in the very bottom of his desk drawer. Moving some files around, he pulled out the book and flipped it open. After a few minutes of searching, he found the image he was looking for. To his surprise, it wasn't Vicodin but the stronger pain-killing narcotic Percocet. Looking over, he saw Jackson sitting at his desk; the detective wasn't giving him any mind.

Bobby sat at his desk as he looked at the pill in his hand while his knee throbbed. He was hesitant on taking it because of one simple fact about the drug. Part of the drug was made with the narcotic oxycodone. Unlike Vicodin, it didn't just cause psychological dependence but physical dependence as well. He could get addicted. But, his knee did constantly hurt and he had been drinking a lot lately just to ease it. He had to decide which was the best of two evils: alcohol or a pain-killing narcotic prescription drug.

It didn't matter, he finally realized, because he had a job to do. And at the moment that job involved him doing exactly what he was about to do. Giving into his need to stop the pain, he unscrewed the cap to the water before popping the pill into his mouth and downing it with half the bottle of water.

Hearing a noise, Bobby looked up and saw Logan stopping in front of him.

"Cohen's lawyer's here. Come on."

"I thought this wasn't my case."

Logan smiled as he told him, "It's not, but I thought we'll try something."

"Like what?" Bobby asked as he stood; the pain in his leg was already fading, along with all the other pain in his body.

"Have you ever been kicked out of an interrogation?"

Bobby thought about that while a playful smile pulling at the edges of his lips. "No," he said as they started toward the interrogation room.

"Do you wanna?"

"As a matter of fact, I think I do," Bobby told him as they walked by Jackson's desk on the way to the room. As they did, he did something he thought he would never do. He patted a corrupt cop on the shoulder, thanking him.

* * *

Alan Cohen got played so bad the guy confessed within two minutes of Bobby being thrown out of the interrogation room by Logan. Bobby stood behind the two-way mirror and watched as Logan picked up the overturned chair off the floor before leaving the room. Seconds later, Logan leaned against the doorframe and pulled out his car keys. He instantly followed.

It didn't take long before they were waiting in the main lobby of county lockup as Raymond Bradley was led out.

When Raymond saw them he immediately paled and tried to turn around, going back in the direction of the jail cells.

"Whoa, hold on, Ray." It was Logan who went up to the guy and stopped him. "We're here getting you out. Now, come on. We need to talk."

In any man in his position, Raymond looked apprehensive as he allowed him to be led out of the building by two police detectives. Bobby opened the backdoor for him and as he eased down into the seat, Ray couldn't even look at him.

Once they were on the road, Bobby finally told him. "Do you remember what I asked you to do, Ray?"

Raymond only nodded.

"Did you do it?"

Shaking his head, he told him no. Bobby breathed out and rubbed at his head. "Okay. That's fine. So, I guess you owe me a different favor, huh?"

"I owe you nothing."

"Ray," Bobby said, much like he was scolding a child. "I got you out of doing some hard prison time."

"That's because I didn't do it."

"No, but you were there and you did nothing to stop it. Or, you know, I could have told them that you're the one that arranged the hit."

"The hit? There was no hit, Alan freaked. You said he confessed."

"It's funny, Ray, how people such as ADA's believe my word over yours. And, since you had already confessed to the murder, it would have been nothing to convince the ADA that you were involved, that you set it up. Now, do not mistake me getting you out of prison because you didn't do it, Ray. I can very easily put you back in. I still have that five year old girl who's rapist is still running around out here. He could very well look exactly like you."

Ray grew still and quiet. Fear contorted his features, giving him a hollow ghostly look, and Bobby immediately had to look away, to Logan.

Logan had been quiet nearly the whole time and Bobby had realized that he had done the same thing the last time. He didn't know what it was from, or for. Trying not to think too much about it, he returned his focus to Ray.

With Ray, they had gotten their pawn in this game. They got their informant, their snitch, their runner.

TBC…


	11. he says theoretically, and you say?

_The air was thick, hot…suffocating. He tried to breathe in but it was being blocked, his throat felt cut off, restricted, like there was a hand tightening around it. Stumbling up to his feet from where he had been laying in the darkness, he searched frantically around for a light as he grabbed his own throat as if trying to pry off the invisible hand. Shivering against the hot heat that filled the darkness around him, he felt his chest clench and shake at the lose of air to his lungs. Looking around, he saw nothing but darkness; there was no light, no signs of life. Emptiness. Staring out into the dark empty abyss, he dropped to his knees as he felt the sudden ease of his aching chest as he stopped gasping for air._

He felt the sudden rush of air shatter his chest as he breathed in a deep breath. His eyes fluttered open into the room as his head spun from the lack of oxygen to his brain. Feeling his body spinning, he closed his eyes as he tried to regain his control. Groaning at the agonizing and disrupted sleep, he rolled onto his back as he rubbed at his sweaty face. The bandage on his hand scraped over his cheek, causing him to wince at the feeling.

Opening his eyes again, he stared up at the ceiling and sighed heavily. There was no ceiling but the bottom of another bed. He wasn't at home, or even in Brooklyn for that matter. He was bucked out at the department on a small bed in a small room on the first floor next to the locker room. Suddenly realizing that he might not be alone, he looked at the other bunks but didn't see anyone. Thank God for that. He didn't want to try to explain to anyone why he would sometimes hold his own breath while sleeping. It was just something that would happen and had been happening since he was a child. Like if he held his breath, kept from breathing and moving, he wouldn't be found. They couldn't get to him, not even in his dreams.

Slowly getting up, he felt the pain radiate throughout his body. His knee, his hand, and his head were all working to knock him back down before he even got to stand up. Yesterday he had over did it. He had pushed himself too hard and he was paying for it like always. Pushing himself up off the small single bed, he slipped on his shoes before making his way to the locker room.

As soon as he pushed the door open, he heard a voice, "Hey, hey, look what the cat drug in."

Bobby glanced up at the voice and saw that it was Rivers.

Rivers was a short, small white guy, who had risen to the rank of detective three years ago when he was only twenty-five years old. That was a great fete in the NYPD. The detective was straightening his tie in the mirror on the door to his locker. His shaggy brown hair was longer than what most cops kept it, coming down to almost his collar but it worked for the guy. According to the rumors that he was starting to pay attention to, the women dug Jimmy Rivers. Next to him, sitting on the bench in front of the lockers was his older partner by at least ten years, Jackson. The partners were never far apart. Where there was one, there was the other.

Jackson had been the first detective, besides Logan, who had tried to get to know him since he came to the island. According to Jackson's file, he was an ex-Marine and the man looked it. Jackson was a tall black man, but Bobby still had a few inches on him, and he was built wide and nothing but muscle. He was also known around Staten Island as _the _cop no one wanted to fuck with. Jackson's first name was Louis, and because of his rep as a hard-hitter and tough cop, sometimes the guys called him by the nickname "Louisville Slugger" or "Slug" for short. Bobby had seen the scars on his hand to know it wasn't all just talk.

Running a hand through his hair, Bobby asked Rivers, "Do I look that bad?"

"Are you kidding? Where'd you sleep last night?"

"I, um, bunked out, 'ext door," he said as he cleared his throat. It felt rough, and it hurt. Cotton mouth. It could be a side-effect from the pain-killer.

"The pills help?"

Bobby rubbed at his foggy head as he looked at Jackson. "Yeah, thanks. I could barely walk last night until I took one," he told him as he opened the door to his locker. Being the workaholic that he was, he was never without a clean suit and clothes in his locker.

"What pills he talkin' about, Slug?" Rivers asked his partner.

Jackson looked up at him as he explained, "I gave Goren some pain meds yesterday."

Rivers, satisfied with the appearance of his tie, shut the door and snapped on the lock. "That's right, I gotcha. So, Goren, think that knee can stand up to another basketball game tonight?"

"No," was his quick reply, causing both detectives to laugh at him. Bobby, after having spent a lot of nights sleeping at the department, had his whole top shelf full of towels and toiletries. Taking out what he needed for a quick shower, he shut his locker and headed for the showers.

"Are you sure?" Rivers called behind him. "The movement might help the knee."

"I said no," he said to more rolling laughter.

Twenty minutes later he was leaving the locker room and fastening his gun holster to his belt when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Flipping it open, he didn't look to see who called as he answered, "Goren."

"Bobby, it's me."

"Eames," he asked a little stunned. "Uh, what-"

"I'm going to need you and Logan to come to Major Case today. What time are you available?"

Bobby approached his desk, and with seeing Logan already there, told her, "After lunch, a, uh, around two would be good."

"Okay, we'll see you then."

When she hung up, Bobby stared at his phone before pocketing it. Peering over at Logan, he felt a twitch of guilt. Last night Logan had offered an apology and a drink. It was Logan's way of trying to make things up to him. Instead of accepting the apology, he had told Logan that if he wanted to make it up to him then to not let something like that happen again. It was the wrong thing to say. "That was Eames, she needs us to come in today. I told her it'll be around two."

Logan only nodded a little as he picked up a few files and then his notepad before getting up and walking away.

Bobby closed his eyes and cursed himself. Logan was going to stay mad at him until he apologized. He knew he was in the wrong even when he was in the middle of yelling at his partner over something that was beyond their control. He just couldn't help himself, because even though he was wrong he had to be right; that was until someone came along to tell him how stubborn he was being. And that someone wasn't there anymore. She was gone.

An hour later, he finally gathered up his notes and files and left the department. His car was parked in the back parking lot so he had to go down the back stairwell to get to the exit he needed. As he descended the stairs, he heard voices belonging to two men coming up. Moving to one side, he continued down as the men continued coming up.

The two men he heard were a few other detectives. One was Travis from Homicide, the other was a detective from Violent Crimes that he barely knew. Both men immediately as they spotted him stopped talking. Bobby was confused for a moment until he passed them because that was when he heard a soft whisper.

"That's Goren, the one I was telling you about."

Bobby nearly turned around to ask Travis just what he meant by that but didn't. He had a good guess. It was one that lead back to the reason why he was probably going to be the source of many talks going around the Staten Island PD. He had given them plenty to talk about.

Pushing the backdoor open, he shivered against the assault of the cold morning air on his skin. His mustang was across the parking lot, pass the departmental vehicles and the part of the building that housed the holding cells, the drunk tanks. The snow had finally lightened up. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it looked like it might even warm up. Slipping into his car, he turned on the heat as he opened his notes and looked at the information he had gathered early this morning.

It was time to pay Elizabeth Miller a visit.

* * *

"I can't let you interrogate one of my students without her parents present."

"Mr. McDowell, its not an interrogation. I would just like to speak to her, she can leave at anytime."

"She's only fourteen-"

"Which is the age that she can legally deny having a parent-"

"If she denies, you haven't even spoken to her yet," McDowell said, cutting him off.

"Then let me talk to her."

The principal sat for a moment as that hit him. He looked defeated as he picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Ms. Wilson will you send Elizabeth to my office, please? Thank you." After he hung up, he told him, "She works in the office this hour."

A few seconds later the door to the office opened and in walked the girl he had seen in the photo with Terrence. She was tall for a girl as she looked to be about five foot eight, dark brown hair, and was dressed in her neatly pressed private school uniform. And he was right, her eyes were blue.

She smiled weakly at him before addressing the man behind the desk. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Elizabeth this is Detective Goren. He would like to speak to you."

"Oh?" she asked in near disbelief before fear crept into her face and voice.. "What about? Is my dad okay?"

McDowell quickly stood and rounded the table as Bobby stepped back a little, watching their interactions. "He's fine. The detective is here regarding a death."

"I'm a homicide detective," Bobby gently told her as he pulled out his shield and showed it to her.

At that, she started to shake as she looked at him. Her blue eyes bore into his as she asked in sorrow, tears stinging her eyes already. "Is this about Terrence?"

"Terrence? Who's Terrence," The principal asked.

Elizabeth looked at the principal as she told him, "He's a friend."

Bobby noticed how she wrapped her arms around herself as she answered. "I'll like to talk to you if I may."

Elizabeth nodded as she looked to Mr. McDowell. "Can you call my dad for me?"

Bobby nearly cursed as she said that. "We can talk without your father's presence, Miss-"

"Elizabeth, I like being called by my first name, and he needs to be here." She then turned to the principal and told him, "But I would like to go to a different room. The conference room is empty, is that okay?"

"Yes, of course," McDowell said as he tried to escort her out with him.

"Alone…please," she tentatively added.

The interaction between the two of them seemed off to him. Bobby had never seen a principal act like that with a student. He seemed too protective and involved.

McDowell was hesitant, looking at him like he was the criminal and not the cop, before he finally agreed. "Okay, but if you need me-"

"I know," she said, nearly cutting him of. Elizabeth turned to him as she opened the door. "Come on. Do you want anything? There's a water cooler in the room and machines down the hall."

"I'm fine, thanks. So," he said as he followed next to her, "how long have you been working in the office?"

"Since the start of the school year. My…I mean, Mr. McDowell, he gave it to me instead of having a study hall."

"Uh, why would he do that?"

She glanced up at him as she opened the door to the conference room for him. "He's my uncle. I try to keep from calling him that while at school, but everyone here knows I'm his niece."

That explained it. Bobby smiled at her as he stepped into the room. It was a long room with a long table that sat ten in the middle of the room. "When does your break start?"

"Friday."

"Only a few more days left to go. Have a, uh, a seat," Bobby sat in the chair and the head of the table as she sat in the one on the corner next to him. She still seemed shaken but was trying to hold it together.

"You're going to have to wait to talk to me when my dad gets here," she suddenly told him.

"You're not under arrest."

"But I'm still fourteen, and...you don't know my dad. He's a lawyer, my lawyer."

Great, Bobby thought as he nodded. With her father present he was going to get nowhere with this girl. "Did he know about Terrence?"

She took a breath and shook her head. "No, he didn't."

"Elizabeth, I know you were with him the night he died. Why didn't you come to the police?"

She took another shaky breath as she eyed the table with her arms still clenched around her chest. "I wanted to, but I didn't know what happened. I, I thought about what my dad would say, about that if I didn't know anything then to stay away until the police came to me." Looking up, she finally told him, "I don't understand why you're here. I saw on the news that a cop confessed."

Bobby held her eyes s he leaned in and told her, "I know what the news said, but, that's not...He did confess but I have reason, and evidence to back it up, that he lied."

Elizabeth looked saddened, and confused, as she asked him, "Why? Why would he do something like that?"

Bobby breathed out as he shook his head. "I don't know."

She was silent for a long moment. Bobby was starting to get fidgety waiting. He knew that a lot of times in order to get someone to talk, to reveal themselves, the best thing to do was to remain quiet.

"I loved him. You may think its not true, or that I'm too young to know what love is, but I did. I was devastated when I found out he was killed. I missed almost two weeks of school and my father sent me to a shrink. I still see her twice a week."

"If…If your father didn't know about you two, then why would he let you miss two weeks of school? Why would he agree to send you to therapy?"

Taking another breath, and looking up from the table, she told him, "I told him that I was having problems here, with other students. That I was depressed. He believed me."

"And your Uncle? He would have known that wasn't true."

She actually laughed at him for that. "I lied to him too, told him that I was afraid to tell him because it was about everyone knowing he was my uncle. That the other students just thought the only reason I was here was because of him letting me."

"But the other students have no problem with you here, correct?"

"Right. They don't really care, they like me, that's all that matters."

Bobby knew he was about to get into some personal ground, so he smiled a little and asked, "You know what, I think I'll like a soda. Want one?"

She smiled a little and nodded. "Sure, a Pepsi. The machines are, if you go out this door, they're to the right at the end of the hall."

"Thanks, I'll be right back." Bobby quickly left the room and went to the end of the hall to get their drinks. Elizabeth was openly talking to him and not even realizing it. He wondered if she only thinks that what she says about Terrence and the night he died was the only thing she had to wait to talk to him about with her father/lawyer present.

Returning to the room, he saw that she was still sitting there, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes. Taking out the handkerchief that was in his inside breast pocket, he handed it to her as he sat the cans of soda down. Pepsi for her, Coke for him.

"Thanks," she had told him when she took the handkerchief.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking about him. I'm okay."

Bobby waited until she was settled and drinking the soda when he asked, "Uh, you said that the kids here like you. Is there, or was there, anyone who…um, who liked you more than the others? A boy?"

She laughed a little as she told him, "Just about every guy here likes me. Some of their girlfriends get jealous, but they know I'll never do anything about it."

"Did they know about you and Terrence?"

"Some did," she told him as she moved the can of soda from the table to her lap. Elizabeth was having a hard time looking at him for a long period of time. She was starting to get uncomfortable. "I told my girlfriends. And when a boy would ask me out I told them I already had a boyfriend but I never told them who it was. I think some of them didn't believe me."

Bobby nodded as his next question he had was about the night Terrence was killed. If he asked it and she refused to answer, he had no where else to go in the questioning, if she did then maybe he could get her to talk to him about it before he father showed up. "That night, where did you two go?" He didn't have to tell which night in question he was referring too. That night for her was probably the most important night she had with him. It was there last.

He knew that the night he remember most and thought about most often when he was with Alex was the last night they were together. The night that had been their last.

"We went to the city. There was a show I wanted to see, a play on Broadway. He saved his money and bought us tickets for it."

Bobby smiled with her at the memory. "He sounded like a good guy."

She smiled wider and laughed a little as the tears came. "I miss him so much." Then, she collapsed. The girl covered her face as the tears and devastation in her young life took hold.

Bobby didn't move for a moment, stunned by the sudden break in the girl, before he reached over and pulled her into a hug.

That was how her father found them; Bobby had his arm around her, trying to consol her, when the door opened in walked a man the size of a bulldozer. One look at the scene and Bobby had to quickly move away for the girl and the chair he was sitting in hit the floor as he bolted himself up to his feet before the big man grabbed him and shoved him into the wall.

"Daddy!" the girl yelled as he hit the wall.

Bobby shoved hard against the man's chest, pushing him back far enough to be able to protect himself as he saw the arm dropped back. He didn't give the father time to throw the punch as he quickly brought his arm up and with one quick jerk, hit the man right in the throat. The father stumbled back, grasping his neck as he tried to breathe, and bent in on himself as if he had been punched in the gut.

He still against the wall, breathing hard, as he pulled out his shield and showed it the to father. "I'm Detective Robert Goren," he said as he got his voice under control. "I was just…consoling your daughter. Sorry."

The man eyed him and then the badge, before he sat down hard in the chair and rubbed at his throat. Looking to his daughter who was still sitting but in shock and horror at both him and her father, he asked, "Are you okay? This man wasn't trying to-"

"Daddy!" she yelled in disgust, cutting him off. "He wasn't trying to do anything but give me a hug. I…I was crying; he wasn't…" she seemed embarrassed as her cheeks flushed red. Shaking her head, she couldn't even finish what she was trying to tell him.

The father finally looked at him and apologized, "I thought…I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking. I overreacted."

_No shit. _Bobby nodded as he stepped away from the wall and rubbed at his neck. It was starting to hurt. That was when he noticed that McDowell was also in the room and he had been standing shocked as well in the doorway. "Uh, you can leave, now, thanks," he said off-handedly as he walked to the door and shut it almost in the man's face.

Getting up from the chair, the man walked over to him and properly introduced himself. "Joseph Miller, Elizabeth's father, and attorney."

Bobby shook his hand before motioning for him to return to the seat he had just gotten out of, but Mr. Miller instead took the seat next to his daughter. Picking up the overturned chair, he sat down hard in it, still rubbing at his neck.

"Detective," Miller announced before Bobby could regain his thoughts and control of the situation, "I need to speak with my daughter in private before we proceed with any more questioning."

"Your, um," he had to clear his throat as he it sounded rough with emotion. Once he was sure it was calm, he continued, "Your daughter isn't under arrest, this isn't an interrogation. I just have a few questions."

"Pertaining to what, exactly?"

Bobby looked to Elizabeth who was eyeing the table. She had abandoned the drink on the table as he hands were once again wrapped around her chest. The once confident teenager was now gone and this little girl had taken her place. Looking up at the father, he told him, "It's about a friend of Elizabeth's who was murdered a month ago."

That stunned the man. He looked to his daughter as she looked away from the table to her lap. "Is she a suspect?"

"As of now, she isn't, but she might be a witness. And I don't want to have to take her out of school; I don't want to have to drag you and your daughter down to the precinct and do this formally, understand?"

"Give us a minute," he told him again.

This time, Bobby didn't hear or see a way he would reconsider. He had no choice but to get up and leave the two of them alone.

A few minutes later he got what he was expecting to get once he learned that her father was a attorney. He got stone-walled. Joseph Miller handed him his business card as he left the room with he daughter at his side.

"She has nothing more to tell you. If you want to speak with her again, I suggest you do it formally and call me first. Do _you_ understand?"

Bobby felt his pulse quicken as he took the offered card. Without answering, he watched as Elizabeth was ushered down the hall by her father.

* * *

"Have I told you yet how much I dislike the tedious nature of our job?"

Copeland looked up at her as she sat down at her desk. Smiling slightly, he took the files from her and opened one up. "You have now. And who likes that aspect of our work? No one."

Alex picked up her cup of tea off the desk as she leaned back in the chair: flipping open the file in her hand, she begin to go over the notes from the Connelly murders. "They'll be here in thirty minutes, so anything you find that's inaccurate or doesn't make sense, I need to know."

"Are you nervous?"

She peered over the top of the file as she told him, "No. It's just weird that's all, but I'm not nervous. And you don't have to worry, I'm one hundred percent focused on the case and there is nothing that's going to get me to-"

"Eames, stop. You don't have to try and prove to me that you're prepared for this. I have all the confidence in the world that you're going to get some answers and you're going to pursue this wherever it leads."

That admission surprised her. She had been partnered with Copeland for less than two weeks and the guy already completely trusted her and her abilities. He had never once since being her partnered questioned her authority or tried to test her or her skills as a detective. He was open with her, he accepted her, respected her, and he also appreciated her as not only a partner but his senior. So far, there had been no problems between the two of them. She had found herself genuinely glad that he was her new partner even though her missing of Bobby was still there. She felt that this was not only okay, but a good thing.

Alex smiled at him before going back to reading over the file in her hand. "So, how do you think we should approach them?"

Copeland was silent as he leaned back in the chair and rubbed at his jaw. It was his tell that he was about to say something that might offend her even though it never did, yet. "I just think that it might seem biased if you talk to Goren. You were his partner, and you're still his girlfriend…maybe."

"It's more like _theoretically_ I'm still his girlfriend, at least that's what he calls it." She eyed him and felt her guard dropping. She hated to admit it, but Copeland was right. She couldn't interview Bobby. "I guess that means I'm the one who talks to Logan then."

Copeland watched her for a moment before tentatively asking, "What do you call it?"

"What do I call what?"

"Your current relationship with Goren?"

Alex wasn't expecting that, but why not. She had opened herself up to that line of questioning by correcting him about how Bobby viewed their relationship. How did she view it?

"I say maybe, he says theoretically, and you say…?"

"I say that it's complicated," she confirmed as she flipped over the page to view the phone records that they had gotten back late last night. She had been too tired to take a real good look at it then, but now she was viewing it with fresh eyes. A few numbers jumped out at her as being numbers to city offices and a couple of well-known restaurants around the city.

Picking up the sheet that listed the numbers that had been programmed into the Connelly's home telephone on speed dial, she compared numbers. As she scanned the numbers, one caught her off guard. Checking the number again and then the person the phone number was listed under, she felt herself stiffen.

"What is it?"

Alex looked up at Copeland in confusion. How did he know she spotted something of interest?

"Your eyes get wide when you get something," he explained. "And you stopped breathing."

"Oh, it's just I don't think that Greg Connelly was calling 9-1-1 on the night he and his wife were murdered. I checked the speed dial on his home phone, for the number 9, the exchange is for the 128th Precinct on Staten Island."

"Because he was calling 9-1-1; it may not have been the typical approach, but he was still calling the police. And how do you know that it's that particular precinct?"

"It's the same exchange as the number Goren gave me for his desk," she told him before she picked up the phone and dialed the number. Within a few seconds she got a recording. Looking over at Copeland, she told him, "It's the desk number for Detective Lance Sullivan."

Copeland sat the file down as he leaned on the desk. "He was calling Detective Sullivan?"

"Why not?" she said as she reviewed the phone records. "He's called him more than ten times in the past two months."

"This is great news, or at least it would be if Detective Sullivan wasn't dead."

Alex smiled even though she knew that their now main suspect or witness was dead. "I know, but it confirms the dirty cop angle; along with this and what we know about the money, we know our main focus are these cops."

"Right, but not just any cop. He needed a cop that could make it look like he had nothing to do with it."

"Exactly, so why kill him?"

"Good question," he smiled wide at her, showing off those commercial white teeth. That trademark smile was making its way around the department and some of the guys were actually starting to call him Colgate instead of Copeland. "Do you want me to bring it up to Goren?" he suddenly asked.

Alex suddenly felt the need to test Copeland, to see where his morals lied. To see where he drew the line between right and wrong. "It's not his case."

"No, but he was involved with Detective Sullivan's suicide, there could be a link. That is his case."

Nodding a little, Alex smiled back at him. She really did like him. "Okay, you should let him know."

Copeland suddenly narrowed his eyes at her, asking, "Why do I get the feeling that you were already going to tell me that?"

Alex shrugged as she got up. "We need to see what the late Detective Sullivan has been up too." As Copeland gathered up his stuff to follow, she pulled her coat off the hanger as she pulled out her cell phone.

After two rings, Bobby answered, "Goren."

"Hey, it's me. Sorry but there's a change in venue, we're coming to Staten Island."

"We're already on our way."

"Then turn around. We'll be there as soon as we can," she told him before flipping her phone shut. She could hear the frustrated sigh Bobby would have let out after she did that. It was radiated in her own chest.

* * *

Copeland was eyeing him from the Lieutenant's office, and he was eyeing him right back. Alex's partner finally looked away from him as he answered something that Williams had asked him.

Bobby glanced over at Logan and shook his head. He had no idea what this was about but it couldn't be good. "How'd you think they'll play it?"

Logan shrugged; he had been answering all his questions with that gesture all day and it was starting to really piss him off.

"Okay, Mike, I'm sorry. You're right, I was pissed off at the whole situation, not at you. Tell you what, I'll buy you a beer tonight. What'd you say?"

Logan was silent for a moment, watching what was going on in the Lieu's office before finally saying, "Apology accepted, and I think that you'll get Copeland. Eames can't interview you."

Bobby nodded in agreement before going back to watching the showdown between Alex, Copeland, and the Lieutenant. The door suddenly opened as Alex walked out followed by Copeland and then Williams.

The Lieutenant came right up to them as she said, "These detectives from Major Case need your help, and I expect you both to give it to them. Whatever they require, I expect full cooperation."

"Is there an 'or else' in there?"

Williams glared right at him as she crossed her arms and said, "With you Goren, there always is."

Bobby couldn't help the smirk on his face. What caught him off guard was the light teasing he saw in her eyes as well. It seemed that the Lieu was starting to like him, even though he was still a pain in her backside. He also saw the slight flicker of amusement in Alex's eyes as well. Copeland was as solid as a rock. He wondered if he was always that way or if it was due to the situation.

It wasn't long before Alex had Logan in the break room while him and Copeland stayed at the desks. The one room that served as the interview/interrogation was currently occupied by Detective Travis and a suspect he was interrogating.

Copeland was arranging some paperwork on Logan's desk, getting his files and probably also his thoughts in order. If he was waiting around for him to start talking, then Copeland would be waiting all day. Bobby leaned back in his chair and just observed. Once it looked like Copeland was ready, he smiled at him and gestured to the files. "You're very precise, orderly."

"I try to be. So, Detective, first off I want to tell you why we're here. See, we decided to start the case over since we were hitting dead-ends. During the second interview and questioning of some key witnesses, we found some discrepancies that we're hoping you and Detective Logan can sort out for us."

Bobby nodded as he leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk as he laced his fingers together. "Yeah, sure. I'll try to help as best I can."

Copeland gave him a small smile as he looked down at the top sheet before asking him, "Okay, can you take me through that day? From the time you got the call to arriving at the house."

Bobby didn't know why that was important but decided to humor the detective. "I got the call on my cell phone from the watch sergeant on duty Danielle Macy. She told me that the call came in from a patrol, Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Connelly were found murdered in their home by the housekeeper, Amelia Ramirez. I told her that the best thing to do at the moment was to keep it off the air, I didn't want the press finding out about it and you know, create havoc before we even got started." The last part wasn't the whole truth; he did it not just because of that but so that he and Logan could get as much time with the case before it was known and given to Major Case.

"Did you call anyone before you reached the residence?"

"Yes," Bobby confirmed that because he knew it was in the report. "I called the M.E., Eddie Kerr and told him about it, and that I wanted him to keep it quit to not cause alarm. Then I called the CSU supervisor, Rachael Porter. I told her the same. They agreed to meet there as soon as they were able to get away from work."

"Then what?"

Bobby spread his hands open in a 'what else' gesture as he told him, "We arrived on scene. The responding officers were still there. At the gate we met Officer Felton. She waved us through the gate. Officer Gabriele met us at the door. We, as in Logan and I, did a second search of the house first, before we spoke with Gabriele. He gave us the rundown of the housekeeper showing up for work, upon entering the house, she found the Connelly's dead, and then called the police."

"Why did you do a second search of the house before talking to the responding officer?"

Bobby stared at Copeland like that was a ridiculous question to ask, because to him it was. "I wanted to make sure nothing was missed the first time. See the scene, confirm that their was no one hiding anywhere."

Copeland stared right back at him as he asked, "You didn't trust him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know him. I have no idea how long he's been on the job. I wanted to secure mine by covering my ass. Anything else?"

Copeland then grinned at him and Bobby blinked back at the perfectly white teeth that showed. "What time did the housekeeper say she showed up for work?" he asked as he looked down at the papers to confirm the time.

"Uh…four."

At that, he looked back up, asking, "Are you certain of that?"

Bobby wrinkled his head in confusion as he acknowledged, "I'm positive. Was that not the time she told you?"

"Was the front door unlocked when she arrived?"

Bobby wanted him to answer his question but knew the tactic, he was building the worry in him that he had been wrong with his answer. "No, she said she had to unlock it."

Again, Copeland looked down and the papers for confirmation. Rubbing at his head, he sighed before leaning back in the chair. "How was the door locked?"

Bobby sat confused by the question and waited for further explanation.

"Detective, if the killer was someone who didn't live there, how did he, or she, lock the door when leaving? Were all the keys accounted for?"

Bobby suddenly realized that something was wrong with not only the time that was given for discovery but also how that discovery was made. "As far as I know, all the keys were accounted for. Ramirez had a set, so did the son, Kevin, as well as the two deceased victims. Four sets."

"And there was no forced entry."

"None."

"Then, Detective, why was the back door pried open?"

That nearly sent him into shock. Bobby sat there, staring at the detective, as his mind raced over every fact and detail about the case. Every room was checked, by him, twice. Every door was looked at, photographed, and documented. "It wasn't."

Copeland reached for the stack of photos he assembled and picked up the top one. Handing it to him, he said, "This is the way the door looked when I reexamined it yesterday."

Bobby took the photo and looked at it. It was clear as day, the backdoor had been pried open. "It had to have happened afterwards. Do you have the photos that were taken that night?"

"Yes, we do. And not one of them is of the back door."

He could feel the distrust as much as he saw it in the detectives eyes. Bobby sat back in the chair, dropped his hands to his lap, and shook his head. The scene had been a setup from the very beginning, and even now, after it was examined and processed, it was still being manipulated. Breathing out hard, he rubbed at the back of his neck subconsciously. Evidence was disappearing, and being fabricated, all at the same time.

"Detective," Copeland continued, "you said the housekeeper arrived at four. She said she told you three-thirty. And we checked the schedule of her work hours with the Connelly's, she worked for them from three-thirty to eleven-thirty."

"And let me guess, she said the front door was unlocked when she arrived?"

Copeland leaned on Logan's desk as he asked him again, "Officer Gabriele said when you arrived, you told him to wait outside as you and Logan went into the house alone."

"He had already walked through the crime scene, I didn't want him to contaminate evidence."

"But it was okay for you too? Why didn't you wait for CSU and the M.E. to arrive. You knew the situation before you got there, why risk going in."

Bobby's patience was slipping. He didn't have to listen to this. Pushing away from his desk, he stood and leaned down over Copeland. "I told you why. I didn't do anything wrong and you know I didn't. If you were in my position you would've done the same thing. And what is this? Huh? So, I got the time wrong. And I messed up the fact about the front door being unlocked. If you ask Eames she'll tell you I suck at the paperwork. I was probably tired when I filled the damn thing out and what I put was what I remembered. I'll correct the mistake, re-file it, and then you'll have no more issues."

"Except the one that says that I don't think you're telling me that truth."

Bobby wanted to smile. The thing was, he wasn't telling the truth. He was lying through his teeth to keep it from being taken any further. He knew the facts of the Connelly murders; he remembered everything that was said and done during that case, but he also knew the score. There was something going on and he knew exactly what it was. Whoever had killed the Connelly's were now screwing with the evidence, gaining reasonable doubt through tainted evidence, inconsistencies in the occurrence of the crime and the discovery of the bodies, and also going after the integrity of the detectives who worked it. It so happened that the detectives were him and Logan.

In order to do his job, Bobby was going to have to protect the corrupted bastards that killed the Connelly's; that was until he could take them down for it himself.

"I told you, Copeland, it's my mistake. I got the facts wrong due to lack of sleep. I'll correct it. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. As for the missing photo of the back door…I think maybe it was either never taken or got lost, hell, maybe something happened to the film itself. I don't know. If you say the door was pried open, then maybe it was…I can't be sure."

Copeland looked up at him for a long moment. He could tell that the detective didn't want to buy what he was trying to sell, but he also saw the hint of belief. The detective didn't know what to think. "You know that Detective Eames is talking to Logan, what if he doesn't confirm?"

Bobby shrugged. "Then that's on him, isn't it? All I can tell you is what I know."

"I'll like to see your personal notes on the case."

Bobby finally sat back down now that his anger was gone. He eyed Copeland as he opened his top desk drawer and pulled out the file he had on the Connelly murders. In the folder weren't copies of any reports on the case or photos from the scene, instead what was in it were his own personal notes he had written down in his binder about the case. It was his own personal thoughts that weren't to be included in the official case file. He had no problem handing it over to Copeland with a slight smile of his own.

Copeland took it and immediately flipped it open. One look at what was written and he frowned in confusion. Flipping through the sheets, he shook his head, asking, "What the hell is this?"

"My notes."

"Huh-huh, no one in their right mind would consider this to be notes. It makes no sense."

"It does to me," Bobby told him simply as he shrugged. "Anything else you want?"

Copeland sat for a moment, a clear sense of frustration and annoyance radiated off him as he said, "Yeah, I also want your notes on Detective Sullivan."

At that request, Bobby barely blinked or moved. "Excuse me?"

"Detective, your Lieutenant did say full cooperation."

"Pertaining to the Connelly murders."

"And this does. We have reason to believe that Greg Connelly was trying to call Detective Sullivan before he died. I need what you have on him."

That was an interesting turn in the case. Bobby wondered how they had came up with that as he once again opened the top drawer and withdrew a file. Handing it to Copeland, he told him, "It's the same, uh, nonsense as what's in the other file, just, you know, about Sullivan."

Copeland took a quick glance and the contents of the file before shaking his head. "Thanks, Detective, we'll be in touch."

"Yeah, I bet we will."

Bobby watched as he left the squad room. Logan was coming around the corner at the same time Copeland was leaving and they nearly collided.

Logan only gave Copeland a look that meant business before joining him back at the desks. Leaning on the desk, and dropping his voice, he asked, "What the hell is this about? These corrupted assholes are fucking with the case."

Bobby nodded as he quickly got up and went to find Copeland and Alex. He needed to talk to Eames.

* * *

Alex looked up from the table in the break room as Copeland sat across from her in the chair Logan had been sitting in. "How'd it go?"

"As to be expected. He either screwed up the paperwork from lack of sleep, or, he's covering."

"Goren wouldn't be covering. He's not the best at the paperwork; that's why I do most of it."

Copeland smiled a little before telling her, "I've got Goren's notes but-"

"Oh no, don't tell me you're actually going to try to decipher them? No one can except Goren. Believe me, I've tried. After one minute I felt my head actually start to cave in on itself."

"Then why does he do it if he knows that no one is going to understand it? Why make it hard on his partner if he's not there to explain what this is?"

"You actually think he does it on purpose? He doesn't. It's the way his mind works, it's how he makes connections. We may not understand it, but he does and to him it's all logical, even though what's on those pieces of paper follows no reasonable logic or linear thought process, to him its as clear as directions on how to tie a shoe. And you can ignore the drawings that are all over the side and top of the pages. He likes doodling when he's talking because he says it helps him keep his thoughts focused, but they don't mean anything." Alex saw someone come around the corner; looking up, she saw it was Bobby.

Approaching them, Bobby asked her, "Eames, can we talk?"

"We're on duty, Detective," Copeland told him as stood.

Alex suddenly felt like this was going to turn into a showdown between ex-partner and new partner, and she didn't like it.

Bobby glared over at Copeland before addressing her again, "It'll only take a couple of minutes."

Alex felt the struggling currents within her. Give in and talk to him or continue doing her job. "He's right, Bobby, if it's personal then it can wait until I'm off duty. If it's work related, I guess I can give you a couple of minutes."

Bobby looked down at her for a long moment; she could tell that he wasn't expecting to be given a choice. "It's work related," he finally told her.

Alex nodded as she looked up at Copeland.

Copeland looked reluctant, but he nodded as he told her, "I'll see what I can find in Sullivan's desk."

She nodded as he left; Bobby watched him leave before turning back to her. Sitting down, he was now across from her.

Bobby saw the smirk on her face and asked, "What's going on?"

"I was about to ask the same. I'm trying to conduct my investigation and you're stopping me."

Bobby suddenly looked like he'd been kicked before he pushed it down as he told her, "I need to know the deal with Detective Sullivan and why you're suddenly interested in him?"

Alex looked around and saw detectives coming in and out of the break room; several of them glanced their way before getting coffee, drinks or snacks out of the machines, or something out of the refrigerator.

"I know you're aware that his suicide is my case, Eames. Your investigation is running into mine. I have the right to know."

Looking back at Bobby, she finally exhaled. She knew this would happen and she knew that she had to tell him. "Phone records for the past two months show that the Connelly's have been calling Detective Sullivan."

"Here at the department?"

"Yes. Once we know his cell number, we'll be able to see if they've also been calling it, but that's just more confirmation that they've been in contact."

Bobby looked confused as he asked, "Was he called the day they were killed?"

"That we don't know," she told him. "It can't be confirmed." He looked really confused now as he looked at her, waiting for the explanation to come. Alex spotted another detective come into the room. He lingered longer than the others at the coffee machine, putting cream and sugar into the cup while checking out the kinds of bagels and donuts on the counter. "The speed dial that Detective Sullivan's number was under was 9. We're thinking he was calling him since no other numbers were dialed."

She could tell he was taking it all in and making connections. Alex felt the familiar thrill of working with him; going over facts of a case and knowing he was about to inform her of something that would led to a break, or some direction that would put them on the path of the killer.

"Tell me about the money?" he asked her instead.

"First off, you were right. Connelly was trying to scam someone with the phony IRS records. He wasn't running a casino but one giant cycling of dirty money. The thousand we got from Logan, clean. The bills we got from you, your FBI friend got hits, multiple hits, on half your winnings." She waited a beat and she could tell that Bobby was going to spoil her big revelation.

"Let me guess, money that were marked by the PD were among them."

"Bingo. No matter what you do, you can't clean it, so who do you give it to, a bunch of gamblers who're going to either keep filtering it through the casino or put it out there on the street. Either way, it doesn't come back to the casino. There were also a few hundreds you had that were supposed to have been used by the drug squad during a takedown. I'm trying to get a hold of their files here to see how that happened."

"I know exactly how it happened. Either the undercover stashed some then claimed a guy got away with the dough, or, somewhere between transport and evidence lockup it went missing. How was Connelly laundering it?"

Alex smiled as he asked that question. "The ol' usual way. And I don't think it's his money."

"Of course it isn't. If it was he wouldn't need to false tax records claiming that he put every dime through, because he didn't."

She knew that she didn't have to say anything more. Bobby had it all worked out in his head.

"He had a source. A, uh, main guy that came to him with the money, say exactly what's been doubled in Connelly's account. A good million or more. It's from drugs or whatever, the source needs it cleaned. He, or she, invested it into the casino boats. Connelly then spent it on whatever he needed, new slot machines, better entertainment, whatever, and since no red flags went up before I'm guessing that less than nine thousand was ever spent at once."

"Because if he did then it would have to be reported."

"So, like you said, not all of it could be cleaned, and since he couldn't keep it or spend it, he gave it to the people, let them win it. The money is now out of his hands. However, the good stuff goes back to the source, but minus what went out of the casino." Bobby paused before he leaned back and smiled a little. "He was scamming his source. The guy wouldn't know how much couldn't be washed. Connelly was taking a bigger cut than what the guy was giving him..."

He trailed off and she knew that something big just clicked in his head. "What is it?"

Bobby focused on her as he informed her what he was thinking, "There's no real way to prove the dirty money itself came from the casino."

"Bobby, you got the money."

"Yeah, but if it's not coming out of the slot machines, uh, money that comes directly out of their vault, it can't be proven. Connelly was smart because he could've always claimed that the dirty money filtering around the poker games and black jack tables came from the gamblers themselves. Connelly and his source couldn't be touched."

"So, what made his source decide to kill him?"

Bobby shrugged, "You don't know that it was his source who did it."

Alex couldn't help it, she felt her longing for him deepen as they continued to look into each others eyes. She was missing him, and not only as her partner. "I miss this," she admitted to him.

Bobby's smile was warm as he confirmed, "Me too."

He had that look, the one that told her he wanted to say something else but was not certain if he should. Alex watched as he rubbed a little at his neck as he looked around. The room was, at the moment, empty besides the two of them.

Looking back to her, Bobby asked, "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Alex was taken back by that at first. Bobby had just asked her out on a date. She still sounded surprised as she asked, "Tonight?"

"No, it'll be this weekend, um...Friday or Saturday."

She heard the fear and uncertainty in his voice. He thought she was going to say no. Alex couldn't help but smile as she answered, "I'd love to."

And she really couldn't help but love the small, smug grin that formed on Bobby's face with that answer. He slowly stood and waited on her to get up. Motioning for her to go ahead of him, Alex started out of the break room and into the squad room. Looking back, she noticed that Bobby wasn't paying attention to her, but to the detective that had come into the break room when they were in there. When the detective caught Bobby's eyes, he gave a teasing wink and smile.

She had clearly missed something, Bobby hadn't wanted her to see the exchange and for some reason it stirred a tense sense of worry in her stomach. Pushing it down for now, she decided she would bring it up later. Right now, she still had work to do. Finding Copeland hunched over Detective Sullivan's desk, she pulled up a chair and started going through the drawers he had yet to get to.

TBC…


	12. To the hilt, he would play

It didn't take as long as he thought it would to find the address he was looking for. The house was a three story out on the outskirts of Coney Island. Outside, on the front of the house, were lights and decorations, but it was for the approaching holiday. The house was always lit up with the red streaming lights around the entryway and the windows. He slowed the mustang to a stop a block away and let the engine idle as he watched the activity out front.

On the front of the card he had found at Jessica Fox's junkie haven apartment it had said 'anything your heart desires'. Looking out at the front of the house and women he saw there, he couldn't fathom a single thing desirable about what he saw. A couple of women where standing in the doorway, moving long to some music that he couldn't hear. Real or imaginary, it didn't matter. The women moved, swayed along in there short skirts and tight jeans. There chests were barely visible through the coats they wore but what he could see left little to the imagination. The women were bare except for maybe a bra under the coats. He figured it was there turn out in the cold trying to invite customers into the house.

Bobby rubbed at his chin as he watched the scene before him as he craved a cigarette. He hadn't bought a new pack since he witnessed Sullivan's suicide. The old pack he had was still crumbled up in the back somewhere and he wasn't so desperate to smoke a bunch of broken-up smokes. Instead, he reached for the tall cup of coffee in the holder and took a drink as the heat continued to blow through the vents of the car.

He was amazed that the house was still there. It had been years since the last time he saw it. It even had the same horrible paint job. A weathered damage grey with withering white trim and shingles that were chipping, exposing the brown wood underneath. He couldn't help his thoughts as the memory of the last time he was there overtook his focus.

_His pulse was boiling hot as he slowed the Pontiac to an abrupt stop. This was the last place he was looking. If he didn't find the asshole here, then he didn't know where to look. He had checked the track, the hotel, the bars, and nothing. _

_Getting out of the car he had borrowed from Lewis, he slammed the door close as he stalked across the sidewalk, pass the whores, and marched right through the front door. The woman that greeted him immediately went from smiling seductively to looking scared as she saw him. _

_He didn't give her time to give him a false threat as he pounded the wooden floor with his army boots as he approached the rooms on the first floor._

"_You can't go in there," the woman screeched._

_Ignoring her as always, he kicked the first door open. His father's favorite room. Sure enough, the son-of-a-bitch was in there with his pants around his ankles. Not giving him time to pull them up, he grabbed the man by the shirt while he heard the screaming of the whore he was with. His father was still shell-shocked to even breathe yet alone say something to him as he threw him out the door._

_Turning to the woman, he yelled, "Shut-up!" before pushing his father further down the hallway as he tried to get his pants up._

"_Bobby, just calm down," his father was saying; the words tumbled out of his mouth as he stumbled back against his shoving. His hands were trembling as well as he finally got his jeans up but had yet to button them or fasten the belt._

_He remembered that belt. The smoothness of it, the way it would look as it ran through his father's hands and fingers just before he folded it over onto itself. And then the pain of it as it would hit his legs, his back. With one final shove, he pushed his father through and out the front door and watched as he tripped over his feet and landed on his ass._

_His father's blue eyes glared up at him in the sunlight as he finally realized that he was supposed to be the one in charge of the situation. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"_

"_Where is it?" he demanded as he stood over the man he once admired._

"_Bobby, Jesus Christ, you come all the way out here because of what that-"_

_He didn't give his father time to badmouth his mother as he grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him up off the ground, and then threw him down on the hood of the car. Lewis was going to make him pay for the dent he put in it. "I asked you where it was? You're going to tell me because I know you fucking took it."_

"_How'd-"_

"_Because it's what you do! You take and take until you can't take anymore," he told him as he shoved his forearm into his father's throat, causing him to choke on his words._

"_You…mother…fuck-" his words got choked off as he took at swing at him. _

_It missed as he moved his head back. He was a good five inches taller than his father who was only five eleven, and he was built bigger too. His father was built thin, just like Frank, and he had a good hundred pounds of pure muscle over his father as well. _

_He had just gotten home from doing a tour in Asia when he found his mother missing and her entire bank account cleaned out. It was actually his bank account because it was the money he had been depositing in it to help her out while he was gone. Money he was also saving in order to get her into a treatment center. And it was all gone. He was ready to kill. He hadn't even had time to change out of his uniform yet when he took off in his desperate search not only to find his mother but to find the bastard that was quivering under him now._

"_Damn it, Bill, I'm giving you one chance to tell me where it is before I start beating it out of you." It was a threat that his father knew he meant. He had had enough of the bullshit, the lies, and the false hope that his father wasn't the manipulating, abusive, evil son-of-a-bitch the had feared his whole life. _

_But he was finally over the denial, of the false hope and belief, of the fear. He hated the man. He wanted to disown him as his father, but even though his hate ran deep, and his spite for him spurred his ever stirring rage, he couldn't stop wanting him to be the father he needed._

_He saw it the moment the fear crept into those blue eyes. His father did it. He had stolen from him, took his money while his mother was gone. "Is some of it here? Huh? Did you put it in this fucking whorehouse?" he asked as he drew back and with a swift jab, hit him his nose._

_The blood rushed out, as his father covered it with his hands as groaned against the pain of the broken nose. "You…" he couldn't get the words out as he was hit again, this time against his mouth._

_That was when he felt the arms grab him from behind and pull him off and away from his father. Turning he pushed the big, burly man off him that smelt of beer and sex. He hit the unknown man as well, sending him tumbling back until he hit the side of the house._

_Letting the stranger nurse his broken face, he faced his father and watched as he slid off the car, still trying to stop the blood flow as tears rolled down his face from the pain. Going over to him, he pulled him up and pushed him back against the car. "Well?" he asked again._

_His father finally nodded in defeat. The pain he saw in his eyes wasn't just from the physical. He was taken back for a moment as it registered in his raging head that his father was hurt by what he had done, with what his son had done. The guilt was wanting to take over, to make him ask for forgiveness, but he couldn't do it. This man had hurt too many people to get his sympathy. He would never ask his father for forgiveness. _

"_It's…The rest is in my room, at the hotel."_

_He didn't have to say which one. His father was living out of one at the moment. "In the safe?" When he saw his father nod, he stepped away as he asked, "Where's mom?"_

_He shrugged while telling him, "How'm I suppose to know where the crazy bitch went."_

_That was it. He took one last swing at him, pounding him in the gut and watched as he doubled over before hitting his knees. As he started to walk away, he heard his father's voice._

"_You're a bastard, Bobby," With one last spiteful move, his father told him, "You hear me, you're a bastard child! You're not my son!"_

_Turning back to him, he bent down close to his father as he told him, "Look how far you've sunk. Stealing my money because you can't keep your own, and paying for whorehouse pussy because you can't get a woman. Thank God, Bill, the last thing I want to be is your son." His spite for the man was just as strong and he meant every word. He wasn't anything like his father and he never would be._

_He got back into the car, slammed it into reverse as he backed away from his father on the ground. As he shifted it into drive, he took one last glance at the man he had prayed for to come back home, to finally step up and be the father he always wanted and needed. Feeling the disgust in his gut at not only his father but his own misguided belief, he shook his head. Stepping on the gas, he drove off._

That was the last time he saw his father before his death. People would keep him informed about his father, but he never talked to him again after that. Never visited, never called, and he never gave a lot of thought about what was going on with him. After he died, he didn't know what to feel, or to think. He had went to his small apartment in the Bronx and cleaned it out because Frank wouldn't and there was no way he was going to let his mother endure that task, especially after her break and attempted suicide when she learned of his death.

The apartment was as depressing as he imagined it would be. There was hardly any furniture and there was no table to sit at to eat. His father would stand over the sink as he watched TV. He remembered telling that to Detective Bishop when she had worked with him while Alex was on leave. What he didn't tell her was about all the papers he found. Newspapers that went back as far as the 1930's, when he father was born. It was amazing to read about what was going on in New York and around the world at that time. He still had a lot of the papers in a file at home.

There had also been piles of sport magazines, mostly on horse racing. His father had a system that had been developed from high-stake winnings that went back all the way to the start of the Belmont. He had also kept track of every win and every loss he ever had dating back to the early late 50's. Aside from his gambling addiction, he also found plenty evidence of his other addictions: women and alcohol. There had been empty bottles of bourbon and beer littered around the whole apartment, it didn't matter where he looked, he even found them under the sink in the bathroom.

In the bedroom he found another small TV with a built in video player. Among the video cassettes he found were old movies, recorded basketball and football games, and porn. It was typical of any single man's video collection, but what had bothered him was finding the condoms along with some love notes in the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. It seemed that his father was seeing a woman yet she hadn't been at the funeral, and he didn't know who she was, only that she signed the notes with a capital 'K' followed by a kiss. He had kept the videos of the recorded games, donated the old movies, and threw out the porn.

There were hardly any photographs found. The few he did find were of his mother, all were of when she was much younger and vibrant, beautiful, before her illness took over. He was surprised to find a couple of Frank, but he shouldn't have been. His father loved Frank in his own demented way. They were when Frank was in high school, playing on the basketball team that he helped take to the championship two years in a row, and winning it both years. Then, when he found the one picture of himself, he nearly cursed the man before he had to fight back the tears in his eyes.

The picture was of him when he graduated the police academy. He had given two to his mother, and she had told him that she would give one to his father. At the time, he didn't see the point and he thought for sure his father would just throw it away or not even accept it. It shook him to be holding and knowing that his father had in fact taken it, and kept it. Maybe it meant something, or maybe it didn't. The photos were found in the top drawer of the dresser, buried beneath a bunch of junk. He had taken that picture and did the only thing he could think of with it, he had given it to his brother.

He was broken out of his thoughts when he saw movement off to his right. Someone was coming up beside his car. He pulled his gun at the same moment the person ducked down and he saw how it was. Breathing out, he put the gun back as he reached over to unlock the door.

"Nice car," Garrison told him as he slid into the passenger seat. "I was wanting to come up to the back and get in but it's a two door. Threw off my surprise entrance."

Bobby didn't know why Garrison was there, but he knew it had to be for a reason. He nodded a little as he looked him over. Knowing the cop wasn't a threat, he went back to looking out the window.

"So, what are we doing here?"

"A case," he simply told him. "I've got a string of murdered prostitutes going back for a year. The most recent victim, she had a business card at her place. I called it and it lead me here."

Garrison was nodding before saying, "Hum, I thought maybe you were throwing a little twist into the corruption thing. Then, I was starting to wondering if it wasn't a part of the game plan."

"Believe me, if it had nothing to do with a case, I wouldn't be anywhere never this place."

"Good, I just wanted that clarified."

Bobby looked over him as he waited for more to come. When there wasn't, he said, "You could have called. What'd you want?"

"I want to know who and what Raymond Bradley is to this operation."

Bobby turned away from him as he felt himself smile. "He is our ticket to the big leagues, Garrison. He's our guy on the outside."

"Oh yeah, how so? He's a two-bit dope buyer and seller."

"So you did look up his rap sheet," Bobby confirmed as he smiled over at him. Garrison wasn't finding him amusing. "We need a guy to get us what we need. I'm not walking up in no drug deal, risk getting my head blown off. Ray's our guy for that. He gets me and Logan the deals, the money, all we have to do is let Ray continue what he's been doing for five years now, working. Instead of him going to Alan Cohen like he was doing, he's coming to us. Once we learn of the big deals going down, we tell him to give word to the corrupt cops on the drug squad, they go in and the rest I'll leave up to your imagination."

"Bobby, that's not getting the cops, that's getting the dealers."

"No, see, what they don't know is that one of the deals that's going down it between me, Logan, and Ray. They come to get our shit, they find out we're cops, and we have a pretty good game running. My guess is by next week, I'll be cutting a deal with the drug squad."

Garrison sat thinking for a long moment before shaking his head. "You're fucking brilliant."

"Yeah, I just hope the guys don't come in blazing. Then I'll be a brilliant dead man."

"Towards the end," Garrison suddenly told him, "when I tell you, I might need you to cut Logan loose of this."

Bobby wasn't expecting that, and in fact, that scared him. Turning to look at Garrison, he asked, "What?"

"I'm not asking you to tell him to quit the operation, I just might need you two on opposite ends. I'm going to have a talk with Logan about the specifics, but I'm going to need you to push him away. I might have to have your partnership fractured in order to get some things done."

"How do you know that it's going to come to that?"

"I don't, that's why I say might. Bobby, I don't know how this is going to play out, it's just an option, but I'm going to have to know now if you'll be able to do that when and if the time comes."

Bobby didn't know what to think about that. His partnership with Logan was rocky enough already, and they were still battling each other out most of the time as they tried to get used to working with one another. To have to actually, and intentionally, push Logan away and damage their partnership, that was a lot to ask. He had to rely on and trust his partner, even with it being an act, the thought of not being able to rely on Logan was troubling. "I have to think about it."

Garrison seemed to accept that as he remained quiet for a long while as they both observed the working women and the men going in and out of the house. "When I investigate someone, I go far and deep into them. I learn everything about them, their family, everyone. I've got to say that you, Bobby, you and your family have redefined for me the meaning of dysfunctional."

Bobby stared over at Garrison but gave no indication of the anger that was boiling inside of him. It would serve no one or thing to get mad, to yell. He did nothing but sit there and listen.

"Your father, he was a teacher at one point, in a high school. English, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Is that how they met, your parents?"

Bobby took a deep, calming breath before answering, "Yes, it was."

"What was his specialty, as an English teacher?"

Bobby thought about his father as the spite spurred; closing his eyes, he answered, "It, uh…it was poetry. He loved it. Dylan Thomas was his favorite."

Garrison was quiet and Bobby was glad; it gave him time to regain his control as his memories of his dead father once again invade his head. "It's a good thing that they eventually divorced. Your father would have brought everyone down with him, you know. It was better to end the lie, the distrust by ending the commitment. Don't you think?"

His eyes shifted away from staring at Garrison as he went back to watching the house. Bobby couldn't continue looking at the man anymore; he was afraid of what he might let Garrison see.

"We know that not every love story has an happy ending. That just because two people love each other, that they're always going to be completely honest with each other. We both know they aren't. That's not the way it works. We've both seen it, seen how love can turn to hate, to pain and destruction."

He didn't like being in this position; being the one who was having his world taken apart and looked at. Nicole Wallace had done it too many times for his liking and he always had a way of turning it around, of going after her, of taking control. He needed the control. "When did your wife leave you?" Bobby suddenly asked.

Garrison fell silent and Bobby knew he had him. "I didn't come here to talk about my wife, Bobby."

"So, you're the one that lied to her. Did you cheat too?" Bobby glanced over and saw the flash of shock on the man's face before it was gone.

"How'd…"

"You have no hint of disdain for her. When I asked when she left, you called her 'my wife'. You still love her, and feel possession over her. If she betrayed you, you would have said ex-wife, been bitter, disowned the way you still feel about her."

It was Garrison's turn to glare at him. Bobby had regained his control, the upper hand, and he couldn't help but feel a small sense of joy with seeing the hurt in Garrison's eyes. That feeling was what made him turn away and stare back at the women who were going back inside while two more women came out to take their place in the cold. "Sorry."

"No you're not," Garrison bit out.

Bobby took a quick glance at him before admitting, "You're right, I'm not. I'm just sorry that now I feel bad for liking the fact that I hurt you." And as troubling as it was, it was the truth.

"I knew it," Garrison suddenly announced. "I knew that there was a part of you that took pleasure in what you do to people. If you didn't like the fact that you can twist and manipulate peoples emotions, their feelings, and destroy their lives, then you wouldn't be doing it. The fact that you still do it, and that you do it so well, it proves that in some twisted way, you enjoy playing with peoples lives."

Bobby worked his jaw back and forth as his hands gripped the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. He wanted to get angry with the cop, to attack his character right back, to do exactly what he was being accused of. And it was an accurate accusation. He did enjoy it. It was a part of who he was.

"I told you I've watched tapes of your interrogations. I've seen the light in your eyes when you're able to tear someone's whole world down. When you're able to get inside them and grab onto their inner most secrets and desires and then use that against them. I see the pleasure you get from it. Is that because in your own life you've been treated that same way? This is your chance to get back at them, and use what they did to you to bring these people down?"

"They're criminals, murderers, rapists. I'll do anything I can to bring them down," Bobby said as he completely agreed with everything that was just said about him.

"It's your obsession. You had no control as a child with uncontrollable parents. You lived in complete and absolute chaos. Then as you got older, you wanted to find justice, something that you could rectify, and control. So, you do it with the job. Once you get a suspect in your sight, you don't ever let them go. Nicole Wallace saw that in you, and so do I. She's right about you, Bobby, you're Captain Ahab, and that's why I wanted you for this. I'm glad that I'm not being proven wrong about you." As he said that, Garrison opened the door and went to get out. "Think about what I said, okay, and get back to me."

Bobby watched him leave before returning his attention back to the place that Jessica Fox and all the other dead prostitutes could have met their killer. As he watched the other women sway to the music he still couldn't hear, he realized that Garrison's role in this game wasn't just their God. He was also playing Devil's advocate. It was striking and startling to him that it meant that he was the Devil. He no longer had to think about what Garrison had asked of him, he already knew his answer.

To the hilt, he would play.

* * *

The only light he saw on was the one above the sink in the kitchen. Opening the door, he stepped inside and immediately shut the door and locked it. It was so warm in his house and he loved it. Taking off his overcoat, he slung it over the back on a chair as he passed it, tossed his keys on the table along with his binder, and he then pulled out his gun and sat it on the counter as he leaned against it to look through the mail. It had been a few days since he had been home but unlike all the other times, it was clean, smelled clean, and it felt safer.

At the bottom of the mail pile was a small envelope addressed to him from Lewis. Bobby smiled to himself because he already knew what it was. Tearing open the envelope, he pulled out the wedding invitation. The date was for New Year's Eve and he shook his head. Leave it to Lewis to pick that night to get married. Throwing the junk mail into the trash, he put the few bills up on the tack board so he wouldn't forget to pay them before going over to the refrigerator. He moved the leftover dinner out of the way that Elliot had cooked to get a beer. Glancing over what he had put up on the door of the refrigerator as he twisted the top off the bottle, he pulled off the flyer for the police departments New Year's Eve party and replaced it with the wedding invitation. His friend was more important than the department.

Taking a sip of the beer, he wandered into the living room and found it dark and deserted. Elliot's presence was making itself known. He spotted the gym bag and weights by the recliner, the football on the couch, and the video game console was spread over the floor in front of the entertainment center. Grabbing the remote off the seat of the recliner, he turned on the television and saw nothing but a blue screen. Pressing a few buttons, he switched it back to cable and caught the last seconds of a credit card commercial before the evening news came on.

He half listened to the broadcast as he slipped his shoes off before taking his suit jacket off and laying it over the back of the couch. Leaning back, he propped his feet up on the coffee table as he tried to relax. The beer that soothed a cool numbness throughout his body and mind could only do so much to ease his troubled mind. His eyes closed as he felt the weight of the day pressing down on him. So much had happened yet it seemed like nothing was moving. It was all dragging along, and pulling him every painful inch of the way. There was too much time to feel the pressure building. He could get lost in the work for only so long before the gravity of the cases and maintaining the operation became all too overwhelming.

There had been no outlet; no way of relieving the stress that was starting to strangle him. Not until he decided to finally end this battle of wills with Alex. He couldn't continue doing this, torturing himself like he was by staying angry. He was tired of being angry. He just felt like giving up and succumbing to her will. That was why he asked her out on a date. He needed to start trying to bring her back to him. He needed something that was familiar, and safe, to hang onto to help him through, especially now that he knew that he might have to go through part of it alone.

Garrison had really threw a wrench in the plan when he told him that he might have to kick Logan loose of this toward the end. That was something he didn't want to do, but he knew as well as Garrison did that he would do almost anything to get the job done. And Logan wouldn't take it personally, he would know that it was part of the operation.

Breathing out hard, he rubbed at his tired eyes as his head started pounding. Taking a big drink from the bottle, he finished it off but didn't get up to get another one. He didn't feel like drinking anymore; he didn't feel like thinking anymore. He was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep. Getting up off the couch, he went into his bedroom and found it empty. Elliot's truck hadn't been outside so he knew that the detective was gone for the night, either working late or…Bobby shook his head, that was all he could think of. He didn't think the guy had a date or anything since he was trying to work things out with his wife.

Undressing down to his boxers, he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. He hadn't slept peacefully in his bed for months and he hoped the beer he had just drank would help him get a descent night's sleep. Rolling over onto his side, he closed his eyes.

He hadn't remembered falling asleep, but he woke tangled in the blanket with his head buried under the pillow. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was four in the morning but his alarm wasn't going off so that wasn't what woke him. Turning onto his back, he sat up in bed and listened to the silence of the house.

The silence was broken by the knocking on the door. Bobby slid out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans out of his dresser drawer, and then headed into the kitchen for his gun. The knocking came again and he realized it was at his backdoor. It was a light tapping with a familiar rhythm.

Putting the gun down, he walked over to the door and opened it. Alex was leaning up against the doorframe staring up at him. Moving aside to let her in, he asked, "What're you doing here?"

"I've been thinking," she said as she walked in and tossed her purse onto the table before taking her coat off.

Bobby shut the door, relocking it, and then turned to face her. "At four in the morning?"

Alex was eyeing the chairs before she sat down in one, facing him. "I got to go home early yesterday so I'm up early. I'm going into work in an hour."

Bobby ran a hand through his hair as she was talking, trying to wake himself up. He was still groggy and his head wasn't clear just yet. "Want coffee?" he asked even though he was going to put a pot on anyway. He needed it.

"Where's Elliot?"

Bobby shrugged as he prepared the coffee machine. "If he's not on the couch then he's somewhere else. I talked to him yesterday on the phone and he was telling me about this crazy case he has. He probably slept at the department."

"Are you okay?"

Bobby looked over at her and nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Because you're starting the machine but you haven't put any coffee grounds in it yet."

Turning back to the machine, Bobby saw that the pot was filling with brewed hot water, not coffee. "Oh," was all he could think to say as he turned it off, dumped the water back into the machine, and then opened the cabinet to get the bag of coffee grounds out. "I'm not awake yet."

"I can see," she told him as she moved up beside him. Taking the bag of coffee from him, she said, "Why don't I do this while you go shower."

Bobby smiled a little as he let her take over before he left the kitchen. Hopefully a shower would wake his foggy mind. It didn't take long before he was under the spray of warm water. It helped to wake his body up but his head was still feeling sluggish and it was starting to hurt. He made the shower a quick one and he was done in minutes. Going into his bedroom, he dressed in a pair of black pants with a tan dress shirt over a black t-shirt. Not carrying what tie he wore, he pulled one off the hanger on the door before taking a black suit jacket out of the closet. He didn't put them on yet but he carried them with him into the kitchen.

Alex was sipping on a cup of coffee as he reentered the room. Giving her a once over, he noticed that she was wearing a pair of tight fitting blue jeans with a black v-neck sweater over a white shirt. She saw him looking at her and she smiled slightly as she glared at him. "What?"

"You know damn well what, Alex. You're looking good."

She smiled wider as the glare faded into a teasing glint. "Huh-huh, and you don't look too bad yourself."

Bobby laid the jacket and tie over his overcoat that was still on the back on the chair. He spread his arms wide while looking down, checking himself out as he said, "I'm starting to feel old, and look it. I'm gaining weight. What'd you think?" he asked as he looked up at her.

Alex rolled her eyes at him in exasperation before saying with all seriousness, "No, Bobby, I don't think those pants make your ass look big."

Bobby couldn't help but to laugh at that. "Always with the wisecracks." He went over and filled a cup with coffee as he wondered again, but this time more clearly, why Alex was there. Looking over at her, he could tell that she was doing good. She looked well rested and she was once again joking with him. It felt good. It felt normal, calming; and he hadn't felt that in a long time. "So," he asked once he sat down next to her at the table. "Why are you here?"

She was quiet for a long moment as she watched him stir cream into his cup of coffee. Taking a sip of her cup, and then after moving her hair behind her ear and out of her face, she told him, "You said that you don't know what your purpose is in our relationship."

That was the last thing he expected her to tell him. Bobby dropped his head while rubbing at his eyes. "That's what I said, yeah."

"You honestly have no idea?"

Bobby looked up at her in confusion as he asked, "What'd you mean? Of course I don't, or else I wouldn't have said it. Look, Alex," he couldn't believe he was having this talk with her right then. He was still too tired to think properly, yet alone figure out what she wanted to hear. "I don't know what I give to you that, that's worth you putting up with me for. Love…it can't be all there is. I know it isn't because love isn't enough. I'm….I know my flaws better than anyone and I know that I'm far from perfect."

"Bobby, just stop it right there. Do you realize that you're too busy obsessing over the negative that you ignore the positive? The good things that you do, it's there and I get it. I mean, how can you not see what you do to me, for me?"

He stared into her eyes as she asked that. She looked deeply hurt that he couldn't see it. That he couldn't see pass his own imperfections to see what she saw that was so special. He wasn't special. He wasn't worth what she was putting into this, but he couldn't let her go because he loved her too much. "Wha-…what do I do for you? How do you see me? Everything, the good and bad."

Alex took his hand and held it in both of hers as she looked at him in the eyes. "You are the very model of an eccentric genius, Bobby. The bad is that you're a born brooder and show-off, and it causes you to be arrogant and self-centered, but, I love you despite those things."

Bobby laughed a little but didn't comeback with his own smartass remark to that. He knew she was serious.

"You're also a very depressingly dark loner. You like to be alone, and maybe you've even convinced you're self that you're better off this way. I know that you like your space, you need your own things, your own place, and I'll never try to take that away from you. None of us are perfect. Do you think I'm perfect?"

"Absolutely, Alex, baby, you're so much better than me."

Shaking her head, Alex told him, "Bobby, I'm not perfect and I don't think I'm better. Despite everything I think I know about myself, you stimulate a desire in me to be better than I am. You challenge me, in not only work but in my personal life. You've forced me to stop hiding myself. Since I lost Joe, I've been hiding a part of who I am. I had stopped making things personal, I had stopped letting myself fall in love. I had put Joe on a pedestal and told myself that no one could come close, and I refused to let anybody get near my heart. Then I fell in love with you. Bobby, you were right. I'll never get over having my husband taken away from me. I will always think of him and love him. That I can't change, but I felt with you I didn't have to. You've accepted that about me without demanding me to give you what I can't. Do you know how that makes me feel, to be accepted and appreciated like that? The amount of respect and love it takes someone to do what you do for me and not ask for anything in return except for me. Bobby, I realized that I was the one who was in the wrong."

"You weren't wrong. I do have problems with intimacy and being…eh, uh, emotionally connected. That's not healthy for a relationship."

"But I was wrong in asking you for it so greedily, and stubbornly. I wasn't thinking about you. All I could focus on was what I was feeling and not about what you were feeling."

"You shouldn't have to worry about what I'm feeling. What I feel doesn't matter. If you're not satisfied, or happy, then I'm not. You have to take care of yourself emotionally, because…" he took a breath and shook his head in anger at his own self. "Because that is the one area that I can't help you with. I can't protect you emotionally, I can't nurture that part of you; I wish I could, but…I get lost in my own self that I can't see what I'm doing to you sometimes. I can't see when I'm hurting your feelings, and if I do, I…I, I still do what I want anyway."

Alex stared down at him and he saw the look in her eyes. The pain was nearly overwhelming.

"If you're going to be in a relationship with me, you have to keep looking out for yourself, Alex. You should take care of your own well-being over mine. I don't…I don't want you to have to take on my burdens just to feel like, like you're doing your part. All you have to do is tell me that you want to be with me, and I'll be here."

Alex slid off her chair and did something she hadn't done in months; she slid onto his lap and pushed him back into the chair. "What do you get from this relationship?"

He had to take a moment to remember how to breathe. Feeling Alex on him, being so close, it was unnerving. Taking a deep breath, and feeling her move against his body, Bobby tried to relax. "I get…I get you."

"Emotionally, Bobby, what do you get?"

Bobby stared deeply into her eyes as he tried to understand what she was asking. "I, eh, uh…I get…Alex, I told you what I get."

She suddenly looked worried, and lost, as she continued to try to stare into the dark crevasse of his soul. "It's seems like I'm the only one invested in getting, and gaining, from this relationship. I need to know what you're getting."

Bobby shook his head slowly as he tried to reason with her. "Alex, I told you what I'm getting. As long as I get to hold you…As long as I get to spend my time with you, talk to you, make love to you….That's all I care about, what I want. You want the emotional connection, I get that. You want the intimacy, okay…I'll try to do my best. What I care about is what you think, and how I make you feel. Can you understand that?"

Alex took a deep breath as she continued to weigh something in those light brown eyes of hers. She was deliberating.

Bobby was suddenly aware of why she was there. He had asked her out on a date after two months of separation. After two months of her deciding if she wanted to give him another chance at this relationship. She had come here to see if she wanted to go through with it or not. He was suddenly aware of all that at the same moment he saw her reach her decision. "You're going to leave me, aren't you?"

Alex shook her head before she rested it on his. "No, I'm not. I'm going to have dinner with you. And we're going to try to work this out and get pass this."

Bobby couldn't shake the sudden sense of relief that rushed through him. He was trying hard to steady his trembling hands as he cupped her face and whispered, "Thank you," a moment before he brought her lips to his.

Alex kissed him softly and sweetly before suddenly pulling away while saying, "I have to get to work."

"You can't just come here and do this to me and leave without giving me a proper kiss."

She started laughing at his frustration before kissing him deeply, running her tongue over his before pulling away slower. "I've still got to go."

He groaned as she slid off his lap and grabbed her purse while picking up her coat. Bobby watched as she put the coat on before finding his ability to stand. Getting up, he went with her to the door. Opening it for her, he asked her, "What are you doing New Year's Eve?"

Alex smiled up at him as she asked, "What'd you have in mind?"

He smiled back as he told her, "A wedding. Lewis is getting married."

Alex stood shocked for a moment before saying, "Lewis is getting married? To who? The artist?"

Bobby nodded as he continued to stare down at her. He didn't want her to leave, but she had to go to work and so did he. "He says he loves her, that she's the one…And that he's ready for it."

"What'd you think?"

"I, um," Bobby thought about that as he looked out into the neighborhood. It had warmed up last night, turning the snow to sleet and rain. Most of the snow that had piled up over the last two weeks had melted. He never as well as everyone else did that the cold would soon return and with it the snow. "I think he's right." Looking back at her, he told her, "I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Copeland he was being an asshole yesterday and if he has anything to say about it, we can discuss things more in-depth on the court."

Alex shook her head, but he saw the amused light in her eyes. "Just don't get hurt this time."

"I won't." Bobby leaned down and kissed her before she could get any further away. He didn't want to stop kissing her. Her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him down closer, telling him the same. She also didn't want to let him go.

Alex finally pulled away, dropping back down on her heels as she opened her eyes. "I'll call."

He watched her walked down the steps and then get into her car before he stepped back inside. Feeling excited about getting this second chance with her, he couldn't help the fist he threw into the air as he closed the door.

TBC…


	13. Weight of conscience

The Miller's house wasn't nearly as intimidating as the Connelly's had been, but it was close. The four story million dollar home sat on the corner of a cul-de-sac that was only four blocks from where Terrence had been struck and killed. A Lincoln town car was parked out front and a Mercedes Benz was in the driveway. Joseph Miller was doing quite well as an defense attorney. He wandered if any of the money that paid for the Benz came from the mobster that lived on the next street.

It was six o'clock Thursday night and he had waited until the evening to come and talk to Elizabeth and her father because she had been in school that day; he had called to make sure. He knocked on the door before leaning on the doorbell. Barking came from the back of the house and then grew closer as the dog ran to the front door.

Bobby could tell that there were two dogs behind the front door, one big and the other was much smaller. But the barking was all he heard. Knocking again, the barking continued and it didn't stop. Looking at the cars parked at the house, he knew that someone had to be home. Or, there could have been a third car. Pulling out his cell phone, he went to call his buddy at the DMV when a voice called from behind the door. The barking stopped before the lock was undone.

When the door was opened, he saw the angry yet wet face of Joseph Miller. Bobby took him in briefly from head to toe and realized that he had caught him in the shower. "Am I interrupting?"

The lawyer glared at him as he kept the door partly open, just barely enough to see inside. "I was in the shower, detective. What do you want?"

"To speak with your daughter."

Joseph ran a hand through his wet hair as he continued to eye him. "You upset her yesterday with your questioning. I don't think I want you talking to her again so soon."

Looking pass the man, Bobby saw the two dogs that had been barking at him. One was a black pit-bull and the other was a white and brown spotted Jack Russell Terrier. "You have cute dogs."

That caught Joseph off guard as he looked over his shoulder at the dogs who were sitting behind him, staring at him. Turning back to him, he said, "If you want to question my daughter, you'll have to-"

"C'mon, Mr. Miller, you know how it is. You know what I have to do. Sh-she's a, uh…a, friend, of the victim, and she was the last person with him before his death. She's not a suspect." Stepping closer, he got next to the doorframe and leaned against it. "She may not even be a-a witness. Please, all I want to do is confirm a few facts of my investigation, and then…I'll leave." Looking pass Joseph, he saw the dogs still sitting there eyeing him. "You really do have such cute dogs. Do they bite?"

"Only cops."

Bobby laughed a little as he knelt down and gave a short whistle; immediately the Jack Russell was coming to him.

"What're-"

Bobby grabbed the dog once it got close enough and picked it up. At seeing the pink collar around the dog's neck, he concluded that it was a she. "She's so curious. What's her name?"

"Would you put her down, detective, I don't have time for this. We're about to have dinner."

Rubbing at the dog's ears and neck, Bobby stepped further into the foyer. "I-I've been thinking a-about getting a dog. Jack Russell's, they're so, a, uh…hyper, you know, but playful. However, the pit-bull, he's…more like a guard dog, right?"

"Ricky's also very playful, and he's more family orientated than the Jack Russell."

Bobby looked up and saw Elizabeth coming down the hall. He could smell the scent of roasted chicken coming from the back of the house. She must have been cooking while her father showered. "Really? I don't know a lot about them. Never had one."

The young girl smiled at him as she came up to him. Taking the dog from his arms, she told him, "It all depends on how you raise them. Pits that are raised badly, turn mean, but if you treat them right, they're harmless, like Ricky. He's a big teddy bear. And he gets along better with my little cousins than Lucy does."

"Lucy and Ricky…that's, a, um…funny. Who's idea was that?"

Elizabeth smiled as she told him, "Mine. We got Lucy first. And then when we got the Pit, the name presented itself. You can't have a Lucy without a Ricky."

Bobby nodded as he looked down at the pit-bull and eased his hand down. The dog smelt it before allowing him to rubbed at his head then behind his ears. "I've got to be honest, your dog scares me."

That got a laugh from the girl as she started to walk into the room off the foyer. "There's no reason to be afraid. Ricky doesn't bit, but Lucy's been known to attack ankles. We can talk in here."

At the invitation, Bobby looked over at Joseph who was reddening with anger. He smiled a little at the father before following the daughter into the family room. Joseph knew what he had done; that he had manipulated his way into the house and then into letting his daughter invite him in and to even talk to her by using the dogs.

Elizabeth sat on the long couch that had a recliner seat made into it at one end while Joseph took the a seat right next to her.

Bobby stayed standing as he looked around the room. There were bookshelves around the walls, a fireplace and mantle in the corner, and a oval table in the middle. On one bookshelf there were all kinds of games: board games, card games, dice games. "This is where the family has game night?"

"Sometimes, yeah. But it's mostly for me. This is where me and my friends hang out when they come over."

Going over to the stereo equipment that had been behind him, he took out a couple of CD's. "This has got to be your collection. There's rap, hip-hop…R&B, I don't think your dad listens to this."

"God, he can't stand it. I play it loud just to bug him," she said with a innocent girl laugh.

He nodded as he put the CD's back. "My mother couldn't stand what I listened to when I was a teenager. Except, you know, I was into punk and rock & roll. The first time I played Led Zeppelin loud enough for her to hear it, she went crazy, telling me that it was the music of Satan. She then proceeded to throw my album out the window."

"Wow, and I thought my dad goes crazy when he just yells at me to turn it down."

Bobby smiled a little as he looked at the shelves that were next to the stereo; he saw books as well as picture frames with snapshots of the family during different occasions. Going over to the bookshelf, he picked up a photo of a teenage boy in a baseball uniform. "You have an older son?"

"Yes," Joseph told him. "Joey graduated high school in June. He's now a freshman at Hudson University."

"Joey…Joseph Junior?" Bobby looked back at the father and smiled a little. "Where's, um, your wife?" He saw the sudden mood change in the man as his face slackened. "You two divorce?"

"No," he told him grimly, and deliberately, and the was when Bobby knew there had been no divorce; there had been a death. "She had cancer."

"I'm very sorry, for the both of you." Putting the picture back on the shelf, Bobby got his mind off the mother as he looked over what books were actually on the shelves. Some were high school yearbooks. Taking the most recent year out, he started flipping through it as he asked, "Elizabeth, have you been thinking about what we talked about yesterday?" Glancing over at her, he saw her tentative look to her father.

"Yes, I have. I told him," she said as she looked to her father for reassurance.

"So, you told him that you were dating Terrence?" Bobby asked in confirmation.

It was Joseph that answered. "She did, and we talked. She was afraid more for me feeling like I was losing her as my daughter than the fact that she was dating a black boy."

Bobby didn't buy that line for a second, but he nodded anyway as he acted like he did. "You're saying that you don't care?"

"Of course I don't. I don't have prejudices, detective," Joseph defended as he glared over at him.

Bobby saw him tighten his hold on his daughter's hand as he did so. He didn't know why he felt like attacking the father, make him come clean with his own bigotry, but he did and he had to fight it down for now. If he felt that in order to get Elizabeth to open up to him was to turn her on her father, then he would use it. As of now, he saw no point. The girl was willing and open so far to his questioning. "That night, your last night with Terrence, you told me that he took you into the city to see a show…a play, correct?"

Elizabeth nodded as she let the dog that she had been clinging down to the floor. "That's right, he did."

"Which, um…play, was that, ex-uh, exactly?" Bobby asked as he continued to flip through the yearbook. He came to the juniors and kept flipping, as he turned a page, a picture caught his eye. Staring at the boy in the photo, he wondered why he didn't realize that before.

"It was…I, I don't remember."

Bobby blinked back from staring at the picture of the teenage boy as he looked over to Elizabeth. "You don't remember what play you saw? You said that you had been wanting to see it, that Terrence saved up to buy tickets for it. How can you not remember?" She looked to her father for help as he sat the book down and stepped closer to the both of them. "Don't look at him, look at me." Both her and her father snapped to him at his sudden demanding voice.

Elizabeth got wide-eyed as she told him again, "I don't know…I, I wasn't really that interested in the play, I just wanted to get away, to Manhattan, and I picked a play for that night. I just wanted us to go there together, to Times Square, to have fun."

"Away from here, this island. Away from him," he accused, pointing to her father. Bobby looked to Joseph as he asked, "Did you know about the two of them, before she told you?"

"No, I didn't."

Bobby looked back to Elizabeth as he asked, "Then why were you so certain that he wouldn't approve? Why did you make Terrence keep you a secret from his own mother?"

"I…I didn't know he was."

"Elizabeth," Bobby he said as he sat down on the table right in front of her, "I think you're lying to me."

"I'm not-" she went to defend herself as he cut her off.

"He wouldn't lie to his own mother when he had been so open and honest with her about everything else. He even lied to his friends about you. After I talked to them, I knew that he had no reason to feel afraid of them, or what they would think. You were the one who was afraid. You were the one that had him lie. Now, why was that?"

Again she looked to her father for guidance and that always made him angry when people did that. She was ignoring what he was telling her and trying to find a way out of it, out of hearing the truth of her deception. Bobby leaned over, snapped his fingers between the two of them because he couldn't do anything more physical than that, and drew her eyes back to his. "Stop looking at him. Listen to me. Terrence, he loved you. He would have done anything for you. He wanted to bring you home to meet his mother, he had even put all his toy models away in his closet so you wouldn't think he was a geek when he brought you to his house. He saved up all his money to get you two tickets to a Broadway play, that had to cost a couple of hundred bucks. But, you didn't go to the play, did you? You called him up and cancelled because a guy like that wouldn't have worn just a jacket, t-shirt and jeans to see a play with you. He would have dressed up, made an impression. So, why did you cancel on him? Where did you go in Manhattan, because it wasn't to that play?"

"We did go-"

"Elizabeth, all the plays started around 7:30 or 8, and none of them ended until well after 9 or 10. You were already back on Staten Island by then." Something then occurred to him and he asked, "Who brought you home?"

"What?"

Bobby glared at her as he asked again, "Who brought you home?"

"I took a cab."

"A cab. Mr. Miller, was she dropped off that night?"

Joseph looked to his daughter and nodded. "Yes, I met her at the door. I saw the cab pull away."

"So, you're saying that you took a cab four blocks home from the ferry, but he didn't. That Terrence paid for your cab, but didn't take one himself. He decided to walk home on a cold November night, with only a shirt and pair of jeans on because you must've still been wearing his jacket to keep warm."

Elizabeth turned to her father again and he felt the frustration in him build.

"Your father knew, didn't he? Or at least he suspected. He had said some things-"

"Detective, we're done here. I want you out," Joseph suddenly ordered him.

Bobby heard the threat but he ignored it as he touched her shoulder, causing her to look back at him. "Maybe things that weren't directed at you, but about others. He made you feel insecure, afraid of letting him know who your boyfriend was. He was talking about other people, their relationships, what he felt to be true but you knew he was inferring about your relationship, and what you had with Terrence."

"I said this is enough. I want you-"

Bobby turned to Joseph and felt his anger spur in him. He hadn't attacked the man before, but he was going to attack him now. "Who was it? Huh? Some of your clients, the neighbors…or just _them_ in general?"

Joseph looked like he was about to hit him before he stood and pointed toward the door. "Get out or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Bobby stood. Stepping up to the man that he towered over, he leaned down. "When did you get suspicious about her? Was it when you went to her school to pick her up and she was hanging out with a group of her black friends on the sidewalk? Or because of the music she listens to? Did she mention that she thought they _fine_. You got worried that it wasn't just a young girl's innocent crush on some famous rapper. You confronted her about it, and she didn't deny it. Instead, she got angry, told you to back off, that you didn't understand. And that only confirmed your suspicions more so you kept saying things to her every chance you got. Telling her that they were different, bad-mouthing them, trying anyway you could to get her to fear them, like you."

"You-" Joseph snapped; he saw the flash of rage the moment it overtook the man.

He dodged the fist just in time as he moved to the right, grabbing hold of the right arm, he locked it with his and he spun around behind him, pulling the arm back as he pushed the man forward until he had to catch himself on the table. Bobby quickly took out his handcuffs and cuffed the right hand before yanking the left off the table, causing Joseph to fall onto it. After cuffing the man, he told him, "You're under arrest for assault on a police officer."

Elizabeth had sprung up from the couch during the scuffle and she was now eyeing him as he pulled her father off the table. "He didn't do anything!" she furiously told him. "You just provoked him because-"

"It doesn't matter if I provoked him, he took a swing at me."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Joseph was now going at him, telling him off as he pushed him down onto the couch.

Pulling out his radio, Bobby called for a police unit to come to the house. Once he was done, he turned to Elizabeth as he told her, "I can charge him with assault, and, I can charge him with the murder of your boyfriend."

That startled her as she glared hard at him. Whatever trust he had gained in the girl was now gone. "He didn't do it. He didn't even know-"

"Then stop lying to me!" Bobby demanded as he stepped closer to her. "That boy loved you, and I know how much you loved him. So why are you protecting the person who killed him?"

Elizabeth grew quiet suddenly as she looked up at him in shock and surprise. He had her. She didn't think he had figured it out, that she was hiding something. That she had been a witness to Terrence's death because the only explanation for Terrence to be walking in that neighborhood was because he was walking her home from the ferry.

"You were with him when he was killed because he was walking you home, wasn't he?" Bobby nodded and so did she. She had completely deflated in defeat and fear as he acknowledged her involvement. "All you have to do is tell me who it was." Turning to Joseph who was steaming on the couch with his hands cuffed behind his back, he asked, "She was dropped off, but not by a cab. That's the lie. You know she was a witness to it the whole time, that's why you didn't want me talking to her. You saw the truck that dropped her off, and the damage on it. And maybe, you also saw how…uh, disorganized your daughter was."

"What're you talking about?"

"If she didn't go to a play," he said as he turned back to Elizabeth, "then she went somewhere else. Did something else. There were no drugs found in Terrence's system, but it did show moderate levels of alcohol. You cancelled on him to go to a party, didn't you? He didn't want you to go alone, and being the great guy that he was, he went with you. But, he had the basketball scholarship to think about, and you have your father and his job and his money to hide behind. How bad was she?" he asked as he turned back to her father. "Huh, Mr. Miller? I noticed in the video of Terrence and her walking together off the ferry that he had his arm around her, like he was helping her to walk."

Joseph looked to his daughter and then back to him. "I'm not answering your questions, and neither is my daughter. You can go ahead and arrest me for _attempted_ assault but nothing is going to stick. I'll be out before I even get booked. Elizabeth, don't say anything else, understand."

Bobby turned back to her as he leaned down closer to ask so her father couldn't hear, "Or did someone give you something in the truck after he hit Terrence? You knew him, and he said what exactly? That it was an accident, he didn't see him in the street. He was sorry. He was freaking out and you got scared, and he offered you a ride, telling you to get in so you did. And together, you both got high in the truck to forget, to stop the pain. That's why your father agreed to let you stay home from school for two weeks. Yeah, you were devastated with what happened to Terrence, but you were also getting over your high."

Elizabeth was crying but she was also angry; pushing him away, she said, "Screw you," before stalking off out of the room.

Bobby watched her leave just as he heard the sirens coming fast down the street. He smiled to himself as he looked down at the man who was now drowning in his own despair. For the first time since taking the case, he now knew who killed Terrence Hughes and he had three things to thank: Lance Sullivan, a fourteen year old girl's guilt, and a high school yearbook.

Now all he had to do was prove it.

* * *

"Listen to what he wrote here after he described, in disturbing detail, his first visit to Sullivan. He wrote 'He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy'. That's Proverbs 28:13, and immediately after that he wrote Roman's 8:31, 'What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?'. And that's where the Bible verses blend with this: 'Human's feel more than just the physical, it's what separates us from the animals. It's what guides our conscience, dictates our moral sense of right and wrong…That along with conditioning, with being berated, punished, and manipulated by those who we believe to be telling us the truth, by those who are supposed to never lie to us, to love us unconditionally. We believe them because they are who gives us life. But what is the truth? As with who is God, who is much like our parents if He can only grant mercy if you divulge what he already knows. He only grants forgiveness if you become like him. He who is supposed to love unconditionally yet he set rules, laws, boundaries we dare not cross or else we lose that love, we lose Him in our lives. Too high of a bar was set and no one can possibly reach it; we all sin, even the saints, even God because how can one create sin and the Devil if he doesn't know what it is to be good by having sinned and then be saved. The sin he created isn't to be denied, but it's to be understood. It's up to man to forgive those who have trespassed against them, not God. If we can't forgive ourselves than why do we expect God to?'" Copeland looked up at her and raised his eyes to her, "This is a philosophical discussion."

Alex raised her eyes and asked, "I can tell, and?"

"Well, he doesn't say if this was what was talked about or if that was just his thoughts. There's no way to differentiate between what his own thoughts were during the meeting with Sullivan and what was actually said between the two of them. And, then he starts writing about Dante's Inferno and quoting poetry then there's a notation about checking a reference in Sid Arthur's book then it goes into some analytical analysis of a depressed guilty mind and what he calls 'weight of conscience'. What the hell is that?"

Alex laughed at Copeland's frustration as she told him, "I told you that you wouldn't be able to figure it out. He's a profiler and he's very analytical, and he has a mind that works like a pinball machine. His thoughts bounce around all over the place before they arrive at the 'ah-ha' moment of clarity. If you ask me, those are his thoughts based upon what he heard, saw, and picked up from Sullivan during his talk with him. He was trying to make sense of it, figure out why Sullivan had quit his job and why he was talking about suicide, and that was what his brain came up with. I'm telling you, nothing in those papers are going to lead you anywhere except around in circles in the strange and unbounded brain of Robert Goren."

"Is this what he actually believes? Or was he trying to make sense of what Sullivan was believing?"

Alex knew the answer to that, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to inform Copeland of Bobby's disbelief. "What do you think?"

Copeland looked down at the papers again as he rubbed at the goatee he was growing. "I think he's comparing the faithlessness and mistrust in parents to the faithlessness and mistrust in God. He sees them as one in the same." Looking up at her, he asked, "I don't know Goren, and I don't know Sullivan well enough to determine if that comparison was made from the mind of Goren, or from the mind of Sullivan, or both. However, you do."

Alex took a breath as she continued to weigh her options. "I have no idea what this has to do with us finding our killer."

"So," Copeland said as he put the papers back in the folder and closed it, "It's Goren's, but it could very well also be both." At the surprised look on her face, he explained, "You were ignoring answering my question. You were protecting him."

"This still doesn't have anything to do with the case. How Bobby believes, and what he believes, isn't important."

"But what Sullivan believes does. Is he a man who could be corrupted? Is he a man that could murder? As of now, we can't be sure of that, but I'm certain Goren knows."

Alex leaned on her desk as she asked, "You want to talk to Bobby about this?"

"I still think he's hiding something," Copeland said as he lowered his voice trying to get her to lower hers.

Alex realized how defensive, and loud, she was being as she looked around the squad room. Turning back to Copeland, she nodded. "Fine, but you're not talking to him alone. If he starts feeling threatened, he's going to need me to be there to calm him down."

"And what if you're not there?"

"Let's just say that Bobby doesn't respond well to being backed into a corner. He'll, at first, attack you psychologically. If you still come at him, provoke him, and he can't get to you mentally, he'll break and that is when you'll meet his fist."

"Sounds like fun."

Alex shook her head and stood up to grab her overcoat. "I warned you, so be prepared to face the consequences if I can't keep him from pounding you. When do you want to confront him?"

Copeland looked at the clock and then back at her. "Let's wait until tomorrow."

"Good, because I was getting ready to go home. See you tomorrow."

* * *

After the ordeal with the Miller's, both Joseph and his daughter, Bobby had went right to the department and started his investigation into proving who he thought had struck and killed Terrence Hughes. It was December 16th and Terrence had been killed exactly a month ago that day. He wanted to find it funny, a coincidence, but he only found it sickening. A whole month of unanswered questions, a murderer who hadn't paid for the life he took, and a family lost in despair over his death.

He had called the DMV at his desk while he flipped through the yearbook he had taken from the Miller house. Once he got the information he was after, he had his buddy at the DMV fax him over the registrations for the two vehicles and the license of the owner of both.

He then pulled out his cell and called Alex. It rang a few times before going to voice mail. Looking at the clock, he realized that it was late. "Damn it," he said into the phone after it beeped for him to leave a message. "Uh, I mean, a…uh, Eames," he tried to gather his frustration as he said to the machine, "I need you to fax me as soon as you can the uh, the phone records you got from the Connelly residence, dating back to November. And, if you found it, I need to know what Sullivan's cell phone number was. Okay, uh…thanks."

Without the phone records, he was stuck as far as physical evidence went, but he still had the timeline to figure out and the details of the crime. Taking out the file he had on Terrence's death, he went to work on getting the theory worked out in his head. He felt alive and on fire just then because he was close to solving the case, to bringing justice to the Hughes family. He didn't want to stop working.

Sometime later, he dropped the mechanical pencil down on the paper as he rubbed at his tired eyes. Feeling tired and worn down mentally, he looked at the clock and noticed that he'd been working for three hours without realizing it. It was almost midnight.

Bobby looked around the nearly empty squad room as he got up from his desk. Going toward the break room to get a cup of coffee he didn't see Logan anywhere. He must have already gone home or was still out on his other case. Rubbing at his neck, a detective he hardly knew came in to get a cup of coffee as well.

"Goren, what are you still doing here? Our shift ended hours ago."

He glanced over at the guy as he pours a cup of coffee before handing it off to him. Bobby still couldn't place him but the guy knew him. "You're Detective…"

The detective looked at him like he should have known who he was as he told him, "Gonzalez."

"Right, sorry. Uh, I'm still working my case, caught a break and you know how it is when you get rolling on something."

Gonzalez nodded as he put the coffee pot back on the hot plate. "Once you start rolling, you don't stop until you hit something." He looked up at him as he took a sip of the coffee. "You caught a break and I'm working overtime trying to make sense of my evidence."

That got him interested. Bobby followed the detective out of the break room as he asked, "Can I take a look? Maybe you need a pair of fresh eyes."

"Sure, thanks, man," Gonzalez said as he sat down at his desk.

Bobby didn't see Gonzalez's partner anywhere so grabbed the empty chair from the desk across from his and pulled it around. Taking the file folder Gonzalez handed him, he leaned back as he flipped it open.

* * *

He was drifting in a dark, deep sleep when something stirred him, entered his sense of smell. The aroma filled his nose as it filled his curiosity; breaking through the darkness of sleep, he heard noises around him and the strong smell of coffee consuming his senses. Blinking his eyes open, he was looking at the side of a coffee cup that had been placed on his desk. Then the pain hit.

His back was stiff and it ached along with his neck. Groaning at the tightness that filled his back muscles as he pushed off the desk to sit up, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.

"That has got to hurt. Why didn't you bunk-out downstairs?"

Barely getting his eyes open, he glared over at Logan as he told him, "It entered my mind." Bobby rubbed at his neck as he tried to get the stiffness out of it. "At least, I think it did but…I'm not sure. The last thing I remember was helping Gonzalez with his case."

"He's not here this morning. He was smart enough to go home or he did bunk-out downstairs."

Bobby finally got his eyes to open fully after rubbing at them. Picking up the cup of coffee, he took a long drink off it before looking at what he had scattered on his desk. The Terrence Hughes case file was spread out all over his desk and on top of it, what he had been sleeping on, was his binder. "I, um….I think I solved my case."

Logan smiled over at him as he took a sip off his own cup. "That's great. Who is it?"

Bobby shook his head as he held up a finger. "Not yet. I want to verify and then…you'll know when I bring him in."

"You're keeping me out of the loop? I'm your partner."

"It's a surprise. I couldn't believe it when I realized it, but…it makes sense."

"You're a tease," Logan bit out as he eyed him for a long moment. "Hey, we had to rain check that drink from last night. You still owe me one. How about tonight after work we get that drink?"

Bobby was up for it, and he knew that after yesterday and then what he expected today would be like, he was going to need that drink. "Yeah, okay. What'd you got going today?"

"I'm going to check out a crime scene. You know that case I was telling you about, the guy who was shot but no bullet was found? Roger Gray?"

Bobby rubbed at his jaw as he thought about it. "Okay, yeah. It's one of Sullivan's cases, Gray was found off Arthur Kill Road."

"Yeah, anyway, I checked out his autopsy report and the bullet hole wasn't a through-and-through despite the fact that burn marks were found on his skin from the bullet entering his body."

"The gun was pressed against him?"

Logan nodded as he said, "Right to his gut. That bullet should have gone right through him, but it didn't. And the depth was only a few inches in, enough to make him bleed out but not enough to cause serious internal damage."

"Then the bullet should have been found. So, for it not to be then that means that whoever shot him dug inside the wound and removed the bullet," Bobby said, finishing off what Logan was going to tell him. "It was a hit?"

"That's what I'm thinking. Someone took Mr. Gray out there, shot him, removed the bullet, and then left him for dead. And get this, there wasn't anything found on Gray. No wallet, cell phone, nothing. He'd been cleaned out. The only thing that got him identified was the missing person's report and the fact that his ex-wife identified him."

Bobby was suddenly very interested in Logan's case. He wanted to go with him but he couldn't. He had his own case to finish up and solve. Finishing off the coffee, he gathered his files together and closed his binder. "I'm expecting a fax from Eames. Keep a look out for it for me. I'm going to get cleaned up."

Going down to the locker room, he found it empty as he went over to his locker and pulled it open. Bobby saw that he had no clean suit hanging up and that put him off for a moment before he resigned to the fact that he had to wear the same one until he was able to get home to change. At least he could still shower and brush his teeth. Once he got cleaned up and dressed, he went to close his locker door when he stopped himself. Eyeing the bottle of pain medication on the top shelf, he pulled it down and looked at how many pills were in the bottle. There were too many. He hadn't took one since that first day he got them.

Opening the bottle, he dumped a handful in his hand as he went over to the stalls. Dropping all but one into the toilet, he flushed them before going over to the sink. Taking one with a couple handfuls of water he felt the sudden relief in knowing that his pain would soon be gone. Looking at the bottle, he saw that it was now nearly empty, only a few pills remained. Stuffing them in his jacket pocket, he shut his locker door and locked it before heading back up to the third floor.

The moment he got the phone records from Alex, and verified his suspicions, he went to Lieutenant Williams to confirm getting a search and arrest warrant for his suspect. Once she signed off on it after looking at the evidence he had gathered, he sent it to the ADA. Now, all he had to do was wait. He hated waiting, not when he was so close to getting the guy responsible.

But he was also glad for the waiting. It was Friday, the longer he waited in getting the warrants then the better off it was. If he could drag it out until after three in the afternoon then once he arrested his suspect, then he could keep him in jail over the weekend before the case was looked at, before an arraignment hearing would be set. All his evidence was circumstantial, there was no solid proof, so he might need the extra time to get a confession or to find more evidence before Monday.

The squad room was pretty calm that day. Logan was gone, investigating Roger Gray's murder, and there were only a handful of other detectives in the room that he knew.

Gonzalez came in about a quarter 'til ten and as he passed him, gave him a high-five. "Thanks to you, I got my guy, or should I say wife."

"She folded?"

"Like a blanket. Once I presented the evidence that you found to her, she broke down in tears, confessed to the whole thing. Sixty years of marriage and she kills her husband over a football game."

"Women."

"Tell me about it," Gonzalez said as he sat down at his desk and signed off on some paperwork.

"Hey, Speedy, catch!"

Gonzalez looked up just in time to catch the football that was thrown at him by Rivers. "What'd you throwing it to me for? I'm working. Goren's looking pretty relaxed and carefree at the moment," he said before throwing the ball to him. "Play with him."

Bobby caught the ball as he looked over at Rivers who was standing up across the room. "Where's your partner?"

"Ah, he's out today. Hurt his back or something yesterday. Are you busy?"

Shaking his head, Bobby slid off his jacket before getting up. After rolling up his sleeves, he threw the ball back to Rivers across the room.

After a couple of minutes of throwing the football back-and-forth, Rivers asked, "You doing anything this weekend?"

Bobby was taken back by that question. Recovering quickly, he told him after he caught the ball, "Yeah. I've got a date on Saturday and then, um…Sunday, I've got plans."

"A date? Anyone we know?"

Bobby laughed a little as he threw the ball back to him. "Even if it was, I wouldn't tell you." They fell in a friendly game of catch for a while until Logan suddenly came out of nowhere and intercepted a pass from him. "Hey!"

Logan started laughing as he threw it back to Rivers. "Hey yourself. I've been working all day and when I get back I find you playing football."

Bobby had to get around Logan to catch the next pass from Rivers. Logan tried to get the ball from him as Rivers moved around the desks trying to get open. Dropping back, he was able to see over Logan enough to see where Rivers was. Throwing it high enough over Mike's head so he couldn't knock it down, he watched as Rivers caught it before a bellow went through the room.

"Goren!"

Turning around, Bobby saw Lieutenant Williams standing in the doorway to her office along with Copeland and Eames. Glancing over at Logan, he shrugged at the silent question he saw in his eyes. He had no idea why they were there or what they wanted. "Take my place."

"Yeah, I'll keep your throwing arm hot for you," Logan said sarcastically as he caught the pass from Rivers. "Except I'm not left-handed."

Looking to Alex as he approached, he noticed that she wasn't looking too happy about being there. Bobby didn't have to wonder why that was for too long as he stopped in front of them. "What's going on?"

Williams motioned for him to follow her into the office. "Just Goren, I'll let you talk to him in a moment."

Bobby shut the door behind him once in the office and turned toward his boss. She wasn't looking as pissed off as normal so she couldn't be too upset with him. "What'd I do?"

Williams chuckled at his quick determination that he had done something wrong. "You didn't do anything. I got your warrants back," she told him as she handed them to him. "Take a couple of uniforms with you, and don't drive your car. Since Logan's back, take the department car. Good work, detective, and I hope you get the guy to confess."

Taken back by her honest compliment, Bobby smiled as he took the papers and looked them. "Thanks, Lieutenant. I appreciate it." He left the office and immediately went over to his desk to grab his jacket. "Logan, where are the keys to the Crown Vic?"

Logan dug into his pants pocket and pulled them out. Tossing them to him, he told him, "Good luck. I can't wait to see who your mystery killer is."

He put the keys in his pocket before dropping the warrants into his binder and zipping it up. Bobby rolled down his sleeves and buttoned them before sliding on his suit jacket. Grabbing his binder, he turned and saw Alex and Copeland watching him. "Oh, right, you wanted to talk to me. Uh, can it wait, I've got to serve a warrant." He noticed that Alex was willing to let him go but Copeland had that determined serious look again.

"We'll walk you to your car," Copeland said as he motioned for him to go ahead of them.

Bobby nodded a little as he grabbed his overcoat off the hanger as he passed it. Pulling it on, he followed beside Copeland with Alex coming up behind him. "So, what's this about? You need help figuring out my notes?" He smiled over at Copeland as he slipped on his sunglasses as they descended the steps.

"As a matter of fact, that's why we're here. I've got a couple of questions."

"Then hurry up and ask them. Once I get to the car, I'm out of here. Next stop, Long Island." Bobby pushed the doors open and was hit by a wave of cold air. The sun was out but the air was stinging cold.

"I'm trying to figure out what kind of man Detective Sullivan was. From your notes, he seemed like a very troubled man, one looking for guidance, for answers. He did something, didn't he?"

Bobby glanced over at Copeland as he started walking down the sidewalk. "Like what, exactly?"

"You tell me, you were the last one to talk to him. You profiled him during his last two days here on earth. He got in over his head with something?"

"Did he?"

"Bobby, stop patronizing."

He stopped and looked back at Alex. She was right, he was patronizing. "Then tell your partner to spit it out." Bobby looked back at Copeland as he told him, "Just ask what you want."

"Fine. I think Sullivan was corrupted. I think he was depressed because he had had enough of working for the Connelly's, of cleaning up after them, of helping them. I think he was part of whatever it was that got the Connelly's murdered. And, I think he confessed to you."

Bobby stared hard at the detective even though with the sunglasses on he wouldn't be able to tell. Alex did, and he saw her move closer to him. "You think I knew what he'd been doing, and I'm keeping that from you?"

"You're hiding something, that I'm certain of."

"So, what do you think he confessed to, huh? That he killed the Connelly's and I'm sitting on that. What reason would I have to protect a murderer?"

"Are you saying he was a murderer?"

The fucking asshole. Bobby blinked back as he went to say something when Alex cut him off.

"That's not what he as saying, Harry."

Bobby looked down at her as she said that. Her using Copeland's first name didn't go unnoticed by him but at the moment he wasn't interested in her friendship with her partner. He was interested in just her partner. "Yeah, _Harry_. What I was saying is that if I had evidence of a murder, I wouldn't keep it to myself."

"You think Sullivan was capable of it? That the losing of his faith could have pushed him over the edge?"

Bobby realized suddenly what Copeland was doing, and if he wasn't at the moment disliking the man, he would have actually played along. "I got it," he told him as he pointed to him. "You're trying to confirm your own a, uh, profile, right? You think by reading my notes that you'll be able to gauged his mind, and by doing so, figuring out if he could have been your killer."

Copeland looked away and Bobby knew he had him. "Could he?"

Bobby nodded a little. "Yeah, he could've, but I don't think he did. And to answer your other questions, no he didn't confess to me and no I have no idea who your killer is. As for Sullivan's state of mind before he killed himself, yes, he was depressed, and yes he did do something, but what he did you already know. He confessed in his suicide note to a murder that he didn't do. That's all I know."

"Are you sure that's it? You don't know about whether or not he could have been a bad cop, corrupted?"

Bobby stilled for another moment as he debated on what the best move to be. Say yes and throw suspicion on the whole corruption angle, or say no and maybe back them off that side of the case. It was a hard decision because had no idea where they were in the investigation, what they really knew and what they didn't know. Taking a slight breath, he choose to play it safe and lie. "No, I don't know. I hope not, I work with these guys. Anything else?"

Copeland shook his head. Bobby looked to Alex and saw something in her eyes as she shook her head too. He immediately knew what it was and he was glad he had been wearing sunglasses to hide his own eyes. She didn't believe him, and that was a good yet very bad thing.

* * *

The drive to Long Island was long, hitting traffic and lights the entire way, and he was glad. By the time he pulled up to the house, it was well after two in the afternoon. Walking up to the house, he used the knocker on the door and banged on it a few times. After a couple of minutes, an elderly woman answered and Bobby smiled down at her. "Good afternoon, ma'am, I'm Detective Goren," he said as he showed her his shield. "Is your grandson home?"

The woman stared up at him as she asked, "Why? He didn't do anything."

"I'm sure he hasn't done anything lately. I have a warrant," he told her as he held up the paper, "for his arrest."

"Why? He didn't miss court on that drug charge. He's been with us all the time. Walter!"

Bobby moved pass the woman and went into the living room when he was met by an older elderly man, Walter. Holding up his shield, he asked, "Where's your grandson?"

"In the kitchen."

Bobby looked back and saw the uniforms coming in behind him. "Rodriguez stay here, Trenton, go around back," he ordered the cops before he went through the house, heading toward the kitchen. As he entered the room, he saw him standing at the kitchen island preparing a sandwich. "Kevin."

Kevin looked up and as soon as he saw him he bolted for the back door. The teenager didn't get far as Trenton caught him.

Bobby grabbed the kid by the back of his hooded sweatshirt and threw him against the wall. "You're always trying to run from me."

"I didn't do nothing'!"

Bobby pulled out his handcuffs as he cuffed Kevin for the second time in just two weeks. "Kevin Connelly, you're under arrest for the hit-and-run murder of Terrence Hughes. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney; if you can not afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights?"

"I didn't do it," Kevin told him instead before he was led out of the house and toward the awaiting police car.

TBC…


	14. The way of the lion

"I can't believe it. Fucking Skittles," Logan announced again as he downed a shot of whiskey before taking a sip of the beer.

Bobby had a grin from ear-to-ear at hearing Logan call Kevin Connelly by that name. Laughing a little, he leaned on the bar as he ordered another drink: Glenlivet straight up. No more bourbon for him, not for a long while. He needed to get over that stuff. It was causing him too many problems.

Logan must have picked up on his change of alcohol because he asked, "No bourbon and coke for you tonight, huh? You're changing your habit."

"I realized that it makes me forget my inhibitions too easily." And that was the truth.

When he drank bourbon, he lost his reserve. He held nothing back, especially his anger. That anger was getting to become too much; it was becoming a beast that he couldn't even attempt to control anymore, and it had to stop. Since he knew that he couldn't and wouldn't allow himself to stop drinking all together, then he had no choice but to change his drinking habit.

Looking over at Logan with a satisfied smile, Bobby told him as he raised his glass, "To Terrence Hughes, and his family."

"I'll drink to that," Logan said before he clicked his bottle against his glass and downed half of it. "Good job, Bobby. Top-notch police work to get a guy for a hit-and-run a month after the fact. That takes skills."

"It was all there. The video from the ferry, the girlfriends name in the guest book at the funeral, her guilt…the yearbook, and then the evidence I got against Kevin, all right fucking there. Out in the open for anybody with half a brain to figure out. What stopped the whole damn thing was Sullivan's connection to the Connelly family. He helped bury the fact that their son was a killer, then…he confessed to it, falsified evidence, then blew his brains out. And, it would have worked. He wasn't expecting that his quitting would have set the Lieu on a mission to get his solve rate up by the end of the year. That she would put us on it. She could have put his buddies on it, Jackson or Rivers, or his partner Travis. Anyone else in the department would have let Sullivan take the rap for it. Case closed."

"This is really getting to you, isn't it? And the fact that you're letting Kevin sit in jail over the weekend before you go in on Monday morning to break him down into confessing…It's personal."

"He killed a kid, Logan. A fourteen year old kid, walking his drunk girlfriend home so he could protect her, help her…And what'd she do? She lied about it. Now, since she did lie and knew who did it without telling the police, she's liable. I can get her on withholding knowledge of a crime, aiding and abetting….It's senseless, all of it," he said before taking a sip of the scotch. "I'm, uh…I'm going t-to, uh, to push for the ADA to charge Kevin as an adult."

"Really," Logan said, a little stunned.

Bobby glanced up from staring at the bar top to look into the mirror that was across from him as he confirmed, "Yeah, really." Looking at himself in the mirror above the liquor bottles, he stared into his dark troubled eyes as he thought about how personal the case had gotten for him. When his mind drifted to the mother, to Mrs. Hughes, he had to look away.

"Want another beer?" Bobby asked as he watched as the bartender, Fenton, came down the bar toward them.

"Yes, I want another beer and while you're at it, get me a beautiful brunette."

"Doesn't your girlfriend have blond hair?"

"Oh, you mean my ex-girlfriend," Logan said loud enough for not only him but the rest of the bar to hear.

"Hey, Logan, I've got a girl for you!"

"Shut-up, nobody's talking to you," Logan yelled back to whoever it was that called out to him.

Bobby shook his head a little as he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket, he took it out and saw it was his mother. Not wanting to take a call from her while at a bar, he ignored the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

They were both quiet for a moment before Logan suddenly acknowledged, "You know, Bobby, you can't let on about the cover-up beyond Sullivan's involvement."

Taking a long drink of the scotch, Bobby finally looked over at Logan at that. "I've already thought about that," he informed him as he sat the glass down on the bar. Turning to face Logan, he dropped his voice as he told him, "As far as the report goes, it was all him, but we both know it wasn't."

"It's good to know that I'm not the only one thinking that Sullivan wasn't acting alone."

"I remember what Kevin told me the night his parents were killed. He said that, that his dad knew cops, and that they got him out of trouble. Now, he also said that he didn't see them or get names, but I'm sure that he knew that there were more than one."

"You're thinking it was Sullivan's partner, Travis?"

Bobby looked around the bar, making sure no one was paying any attention to them or trying to eavesdrop, then he nodded. "And, I think you're wrong. I'm going to get Travis alone, tell him that I know he was involved, but, I'm not going to do anything about it. As far as I'm concerned, Sullivan paid the debt for th-their, uh…their misdeed."

"That'll win you his trust for sure."

"They're our new best friends now, remember. Plus, I've seen Travis hanging with a, uh, a guy from Violent Crimes, a, um…Irving; they both talk a lot, and Irving's on our list. If I can get to Travis, I can get to him as well. You know, earlier today Rivers asked me a-about plans I had for the weekend. I think he's trying to feel me out. I have plans that I can't break, but, if you're not doing anything…" he left the rest unsaid. Logan knew what he was asking.

"You want me to ask Rivers out to play this weekend?"

Bobby laughed a little as Logan asked that. "Yeah, see what he has going on."

"He asked you and not me? They're treating me like the outsider here instead of you."

"Yeah, it seems like they're taking me in. W-we, uh…we have to get you out there, Mike," Bobby said as he slapped him on the shoulder. "You know why, don't you? You've been on the island for ten years, six in homicide, and you're out of their radar. As far as they're, um, concerned, you're a-an, uh, an upstanding detective who won't get dirty. I'm the new guy, and so far all they're getting about me are IA spread rumors about me being dirty."

"Great, they're initiating you for their corrupt cop country club. Next thing I know you'll be invited to secret society meetings, golf outings, and cookouts. I'm just a damn tag along."

Bobby really lost it then. He didn't stop laughing until he spotted Rivers coming over to him. "Uh, speaking of club members…" Holding a hand out, he shook Rivers hand. "How's it hanging?"

"Ask me again tomorrow. Good job on your case, I thought for sure Sully would take the fall for that shit."

Bobby nodded a little as he thought about that. For all he knew, Rivers already knew about the whole cover up, and the reasons why Sullivan tried to take the fall for the murder. Smiling a little he waited for Rivers to continue.

Rivers looked over his shoulder before turning back go him. "You see that dark haired, blue eyed girl behind me in the corner." Bobby went to take a look when Rivers stopped him. "Don't look until I walk away. Anyway, she's inviting me out with her friends. They're heading into the city."

"Nice. So, uh, what's this have to do with me?" Bobby asked as he picked up his drink and took a sip.

"I don't want to go alone."

He couldn't help it; the innocent way Rivers said that and the desperate look in his eyes caused his uncontrollable laughter to once again take hold. Logan was even laughing. "You're not still wet behind the ears, are you? I know you're young but…"

"Hey, cut it out. I've got a rep, man, and this shit is serious. There's five of them. Do you know how hard it is to get a girl alone with four other women circling around. It's impossible."

"Sorry, but I've got a woman," Bobby said but then he turned to Logan. This was a perfect opportunity to get Mike in good with Rivers. "But Mikey here's on the rebound. His girl broke his heart."

Logan gave him a look before smirking as he told Rivers, "I'll spot you. Where you goin', Manhattan?"

Rivers looked at Logan for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah. Alright, cool, thanks Logan. We're about to go," he said as he gestured behind him.

Bobby leaned sideways on the stool and tilted his head down so he could see around Rivers. The woman he was talking about was quite beautiful.

"Hey," Rivers said as he playfully hit him on the arm. "I said to wait. I don't want her to think I'm talking about her. I told her that I was coming over here to talk about a crazy murder investigation. She's a buff."

"Oh, you sure can pick 'em, can't you Jimmy? Tall, dark, beautiful, and she'll fuck any guy with a badge and gun."

"Bite me, Mike." Rivers turned around and saw the woman waving at him as she went toward the door. "Okay." Turning back to Logan, he asked, "Coming?"

"Sure," Logan said as he downed the rest of the beer and slid off the stool. Patting him on the shoulder, he told him, "Take it easy, partner. I'll see you Monday."

All Bobby could do was raise his glass and say with all seriousness, "Wear a condom."

Logan laughed then shook his head saying, "Thanks for the optimism," as he followed Rivers out of the cop bar.

Bobby watched them leave before turning back around to the bar. Looking into the mirror, he toasted his reflection before he downed the rest of his drink. After ordering another one, he went to an empty booth in the back corner.

Almost an hour later, and after a few more glasses of scotch, he wasn't feeling too much of anything. He had forgotten about the aching in his heart and head over the Hughes case as he let himself drown in the numbing effects of the alcohol. He knew he was being loud, causing heads to turn, and after two attempts by the bartender to get him to call a cab he blatantly refused by ordering another drink before shuffling over to the jukebox and selecting a couple more songs from the CD collection.

"Oh, baby why you wait so long? Oh, baby why you wait so long, won't you come home, come home," he sung as he banged out the drum beat on the table. The song that was playing now was another one that he had chosen by The Rolling Stones; it was _Miss You _and every time he heard it he thought of Alex. He missed her, and that song was exactly what he had been going through for the last two months without her. "I've been walking Central Park, singing after dark, people think I'm crazy."

"Are you singing in despair or celebration?"

Bobby opened his eyes to the soft sultry voice that he recognized. Staring up into the brown eyes of the woman. "Neither. I'm singing in drunkenness."

"May I join you?" she asked as she gestured to the seat across from him.

"Sure, uh, Brenda, have a seat. What're you drinking?" he asked as he sat up in the seat. While singing, he had slid down further into the booth.

"Riesling," Brenda told him as she sat down across from him. "Do you always sing when you get drunk?"

"You just missed me singing _Beast of Burden, _that's my favorite," he told her with a little laugh as he picked up the glass in front of him and took a drink. At seeing her amusement, he smiled over at her as he asked, "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, I just got off work and felt like having a drink before going home. I wasn't expecting to be walking into an audition for American Idol."

"What's that?"

Brenda laughed and shook her head. "I guess it's a TV show you don't watch."

"I hardly watch TV anymore, unless there's a game on I want to see. The only reason I have one is to play video games."

She seemed surprised by that as she took a sip of the wine. "You don't look like a gamer to me."

"Looks can be very deceiving."

"Why are you here?" Brenda suddenly asked as she looked around. "I don't see your partner."

"He left me for four women," he emphasized by holding up four fingers. "I can't blame him. If I was still a single man…" Bobby looked her over and realized that he was talking way too freely. He wasn't feeling entirely uncomfortable with her talking to him, drinking with him, and he was finding himself enjoying looking at her. Downing the rest of his drink, he stared down into the empty glass as he tried to remember how many he had. "S-six."

"What?"

"I've had six, and I'm still able to control myself…barely. That's a good thing."

"I'm sure it is if you're making a point in telling me. Do you usually start throwing punches by now?"

"Sometimes," Bobby said while smirking as he leaned back in the booth and closed his eyes.

Brenda chuckled as she asked, "Are you going to need a ride home?"

"I'm not going home," he quickly told her as he opened his eyes to be looking into her deeply dark eyes. Damn those eyes as they seemed to stir a yearning in him that had been buried for months. It took him a moment to will himself to look away as he searched the room; he wasn't looking for anyone specifically, he just had to look away. "Have I been leading you on?" he asked as he returned to be looking into her eyes.

Brenda looked taken back and surprised by that question. Taking a sip of the wine first, she answered, "What, Bobby-"

"It's just," he interrupted as he leaned forward on the table. "I wasn't trying to, but if that's what I was doing, what you were thinking, I need to know. I have a, uh, a tendency to flirt, to be overly um…to be open, about my interests in a woman that I find, attracting. Most of the time it's purely innocent, you know, it's just my nature. I've always done it, sometimes subconsciously, most of the time not so much…and it's…Anyway, I've gotten in a-a, uh, a lot of trouble because of it before, and I don't want t-to, um, to…uh, inadvertently do that now. I mean, I like you, I think you're very attractive, but I'm in a relationship. A seriously committed relationship that scares me senseless, and so that also propels me towards my recklessness."

Brenda finally seemed like she had recovered from what he was telling her as she interrupted, "Recklessness? You mean like flirting with other women while you're in a relationship to get out of the relationship."

Bobby stared at her as he thought about that. "Well, when you put it like that it sounds very deceiving and wrong. I don't cheat, I just…um…I like to talk, you know, and to-to, uh…"

"To flirt."

"That too," he said while pointing a finger at her while smiling slightly. "Anyway, I was just wanting to know if I've been implying in any way that I want to have sex with you."

That shocked her even more as she stared over at him. Brenda finally got out, "You really don't know when to stop talking, do you?"

"No, I don't, and you're avoiding my question."

"Give me a minute to process all that you've said." Brenda leaned back in the booth as she finished off her wine as she studied him. "Bobby, you're right, you are very open about what interests you. It wasn't hard to see that you liked me. To answer your questions, yes, I felt like you were leading me on. And if you would have asked, I would have went out with you and quite possibly had sex with you."

"You think I'm desirable?"

Brenda suddenly laughed at that and it got him to smile. "God, Bobby, are you serious? You just told me you're in a serious relationship, and that you don't cheat, yet you're still flirting with me."

"So, now that we both know where we both stand you can answer me honesty."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"You know now that there are no expectations."

He saw the reddening of her cheeks as she leaned on the table and dropped her voice. "Yes, I find you very desirable. Satisfied, you got me to blush."

Bobby grinned as he leaned on his right hand that was propped up on the table. "Is it because I'm a cop?"

"Not completely, but it does add to you being a mystery."

"Mystery? I didn't think I'm that much of an enigma. All men want is for someone to love and accept them. There's no mystery in that."

"Yet you men always seem to make loving you very complicated. I wonder what your problem is?"

"According to Eames, we all talk too much."

"Well, Eames sounds like a very smart person. I'm guessing Eames is a woman, and a cop."

"My ex-partner and girlfriend. We've been separated for a while, but it looks like she's giving me another chance."

Brenda gave him a genuinely honest smile as she told him, "I'm happy for you. You look like you need happiness in your life."

"What about you? You don't think you need, _happiness_?"

Brenda seemed to think about that as she swirled the empty glass on the table. "I think I do, I just can't seem to find it."

"Would you date a cop?"

"Are you flirting with me again, detective?"

Shaking his head into his hand, he told her, "No, just curious." Watching her eyes, he could tell that the question bothered her. Bobby knew that he had her exactly where he was leading her, to be completely open with him. Even if she didn't say anything, he could still read her.

"Yeah, I would."

Bobby knew the response to his next question could go two different ways: the good and the bad. Trying to make it sound as unthreatening as possible, he asked, "Have you been with a cop before?"

She stopped swirling the glass as she looked up at him. The flash of anger and resentment that he saw in her eyes before it was gone gave him his answer, but Brenda surprised him as she answered, "Before, back in Jersey."

"He a good guy."

"Some people thought so."

Not knowing what that meant, Bobby nodded a little as he reached over and took her hand. "I didn't mean to upset you. Want another drink? I'll buy."

Brenda narrowed her eyes at him before telling him, "You're a lion."

That caught him off guard as he asked in confusion, "A what?"

"A lion. You're a Leo."

Bobby smiled slightly as he nodded. "You're right, I am a Leo. I was born on August 21st."

She dug into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. "I'm going to look you up."

Bobby sat forward as he asked her, "You believe in those things? Zodiac signs and horoscopes?"

"Of course, don't you?" she asked as she did something on her phone.

"I, uh…no, I don't," Bobby said as he waited until she was done. "Those things aren't always accurate, you know?"

"How do you know if you've never seen what it says about you. Ah! Here we go," Brenda said with a wide grin on her face. "Oh, interesting. Your good traits are that you can be generous, warmhearted, creative, enthusiastic, broad-minded, expansive, faithful and loving."

"Sounds like me," Bobby said with a grin as he winked over at her.

"But your bad traits, your dark side, is that you're…" she started laughing as she looked up at him. "You can be pompous, patronizing, bossy, interfering, dogmatic and intolerant."

"See…wrong."

"Yeah, right, I've seen you at work, Bobby, you can be very full of it when you want to be. Hang on, there's more."

Bobby reached over to grabbed the phone but she pulled it away while laughing. "I think we're done."

"Aw, don't be a spoiled sport. I'm finding out a lot about you. It says here that the Leo type is the most dominant, spontaneously creative and extrovert of all the zodiacal characters. In grandeur of manner, splendor of bearing and magnanimity of personality, and, you are the monarch among humans as the lion is king of beasts. You're the king, Bobby."

"I felt like the king tonight when I got my murderer," he told her as he leaned back in the booth and stared up at the ceiling. "What else it say?"

"You're ambitious, courageous, dominant, strong willed, positive, independent, and self-confident. You are self-controlled. A born leader, either in support of, or in revolt against, the _status quo_."

He laughed as he told her, "That explains my defiant nature."

"You are at your most effective when in a position of command, your personal magnetism and innate courtesy of mind bring out the best of loyalty from subordinates. You are uncomplicated, knowing exactly what you want and using all your energies, creativeness and resolution to get it, as well as being certain that you will get whatever you are after. You think and act bigger than others would normally dare…See, exactly like you, Bobby. And, the ambitiousness of your schemes and idealism sometimes daunt your followers, and your practical hardheadedness and ability to go straight to the heart of any problem reassures those who depend on you."

Bobby listened to her and he actually couldn't believe that the damn zodiac description of him was so accurate. "Okay, I've got to admit, that sound a lot like me, except for the position of power. I don't want power."

Brenda was laughing at him as he admitted that. "No, you want control. And that can be the same as power. See, what'd I tell you. Your sign never lies. Oh, there's more. Wanna hear?"

She had sparked his curiosity, of course he wanted to hear. Bobby smiled a little as he shrugged. "Sure, enlighten me."

"Okay, here are your faults." Brenda smiled over at him before continued to read, "Your faults can be as large in scale as your virtues, and an excessively negative Leo can be one of the most unpleasant human beings imaginable, displaying extreme arrogance, autocratic pride, haughtiness, and excessive hastiness of temper," she said as she glanced up at him.

Bobby leaned his head back on the seat as he thought of that last part. At this point in his life he was an excessively negative Leo. He was acting like all those things, especially with his temper.

"If jealously suspicious of rivals," she continued, "you won't hesitate to use cunning lies and trickery to discredit them. You can be self-centered and have a greed for flattery; as well as boastfulness, pomposity, and you can be overbearing and have an intolerant disdain of underlings; to whom you will nevertheless delegate the carrying out of minor details in your grandiose schemes, and from whom you are not above borrowing immoderately if an occasion necessitates it. Any of these can be characteristic of the Leo. Add to them a passion for luxury, a lust for power, unlimited sexual lust, and emotional indulgence, and a character emerges that no one would want to know either in public life or private."

When she started laughing, Bobby reached over and tried once again to take the phone away from her. "It actually says that?"

Brenda pulled the phone away as she teased, "Yes, it does. What, Bobby, you can't take hearing about your own faults?"

"Those aren't my faults, at least not all of them. Yes, I can be boastful, even I can admit that, but a certain level of self-centeredness is healthy. Is that it?"

"No, it also says that your pride may go before a fall, as uncontrolled impetuosity is likely to bring you down. See," she pointed out to him, "This comes back to your reckless flirting. Your uncontrolled impulses and reckless nature are going to be your downfall and get you in some serious trouble."

"I'm already in trouble."

Going back to reading, she told him, "Fortunately it is rare that a Leo is so undisciplined as to give way thoroughly to this list of vices, and their tendencies to them are usually balanced by an innate wisdom. Those who are afflicted with them also have the intelligence it takes to consciously and actively overcome them." Smiling up at him, she told him, "You need to use your innate wisdom to get yourself out of your trouble. Now, we get to the really good stuff, relationships."

"Oh, God," Bobby said as he rolled his eyes playfully. "No, no, I think we're done."

"In relations with others," she continued with a hint of teasing in her voice, "the Leo type is open, sincere, genuine and trusting. Outgoing, spontaneously warmhearted and plain spoken, though never lacking in kindliness, Leos are more disillusioned than the average if let down by those they trust." She stopped reading after she said that part and looked over at him.

Bobby's comfortable teasing was gone at her saddening eyes. It was the truth, it was a part of him, but to hear it and for her to know it was troubling. When the people he trusted the most let him down, he became disillusioned, cynical, and whole-heartedly disappointed. It had also damaged his ability to be open and trusting. It had destroyed his nature. "What else does it say?"

Losing her sense of teasing at his obvious discomfort she continued, "Um…that Leos aren't good judges of character and are inclined to favoritism and an exaggerated faith in their followers which too often ends in disappointment. They have a strong sex drive and are so attracted to the opposite sex that they find it hard to be constant…Bobby-"

"Brenda, I want to hear the rest," he suddenly demanded. Now he was invested in what the damn thing said and he felt that he needed to hear it. Maybe he had been blinded by who he was that he was destroying Alex because of it. Maybe he was living in some kind of denial. "Please."

"Okay," she finally told him as she looked back down at her phone. "They can be so intensely sexual as to become dissolute."

_Dissolute. A self-indulgent degenerate like his father. _Bobby sat still and kept his eyes on the table as she continued.

"They may have numerous love affairs for their love of pleasure and beauty is liable to drive them from one attractive partner to another. They are very much inclined to deceive….I'm not sure-"

"I won't ask you again," he told her as he shifted his eyes up to hers.

Brenda looked ready to throw the cell phone at him before she finished reading, "Their marriages may fail for the same reason, yet they are sincere and generous to their lovers while love lasts, and will remain attached to their homes so long as it is run for their benefit…" she trailed off as she looked up at him seriously. "It says that they demand service but are incapable of giving it."

_Incapable of giving it. _Wasn't his problem with being with Alex was because he was incapable of giving to her? Of giving her the same trust and loyalty and emotional connection that she had been giving him? Bobby shook his head at his own self as he covered his face with his hands.

"Bobby, it doesn't mean that you're exactly like that. It all depends on upbringing and life-"

"I need a drink," he said into his hands as he felt everything in him wither in misery.

"I think you've had enough."

Bobby gave a soft smile as he withdrew his hands from his face and leaned back in the booth.

"I can still give you that ride home if you want."

Bobby peered over at her through his half-closed eyelids. He knew that he had a desire for her and that if they went anywhere together in the state he was in it would end badly for everyone involved: him, her, and Alex. Hell, it was in his damn nature and soul to be a deceiving self-indulgent son-of-a-bitch. But, because of his father's betrayal to his mother, he had always resisted his nature, his urges. Yeah, he liked a good time and when he wasn't in a serious relationship he had plenty of, as his mother would put it, lady friends.

"I remember telling you that I'm not going home." Taking out some money, he tossed enough for the drinks he had on the table along with plenty for a tip as he went to stand. Looking down at her, he told her, "Thanks, Brenda, for talking to me. I'm sorry I got…That, our good time was ruined. If you ever want someone, a friend, to talk to, all you have to do is ask."

Smiling up at him, she nodded a little. "Thanks, Bobby. You know, of all the people I've met since moving here, you've got to be the only one who I think actually wants to get to know me, to be a friend."

He felt that desire stirring again as he didn't want to leave her; he wanted to stay and talk longer, but he had to leave. He had to get himself away from her as quickly as he possibly could. He had been honest with her in everything he told her and even though he had told her he wasn't a man who cheated the draw to her was strong. She attracted him on so many levels that if he stayed he would fall. In his mind and in his life, he knew that the word don't didn't always necessarily mean won't. And now he knew why he was a man that had always been able to do what he wanted without giving much thought to anyone else. If he wanted something or someone then he went for it and was bound and determined to get it at all costs. It was the way of the lion.

That kind of thinking and doing was what was getting him into so much trouble with Alex. She had been wanting him to stop thinking about his own self to consider her. That concept was so foreign to him that it felt like he had to give up who he was to accommodate her, that he had to change. Change was something that he had a hard time adapting to. He didn't like change. To him the thought of changing meant losing who he was, losing his independence, his defiance, and his ability to do what he wanted.

Yet, Alex had forgiven him, was still in love with him, and he loved her too much to betray her. That thought was the one that startled him the most. He had never been in love before. He was ashamed to admit that if he didn't love Alex, even if he was still with her, he wouldn't have any problem accepting Brenda's invitation. He wouldn't have even considered Alex at all, but he did. He knew that the love he had for her would last. It had to; he was determined to keep it.

Turning away from Brenda, he headed toward the door.

* * *

Garrison had given him an idea. The girls, even if they knew he was there about a murder, they weren't going to talk, especially if he waltzed in the house flashing his badge and asking in front of all the other girls. A killer like the one he was after, if he did find his prey at that house, they had to know him and he bet that most if not all were terrified of him.

However, if he went in as a customer then maybe he could get them to open up. To get them to talk to him like how he had done with Brenda. He didn't get the whole story from her yet, but he was getting her to talk to him, to trust him. She needed to feel that trust to come to him. Bobby didn't know why he wanted to know more about her, or why he felt that the secrets she was keeping from him were so damn important, it was just a feeling he had. And he had learned very early in his life to not ignore what his instinct and intuition were telling him. He trusted his gut more than his own heart.

His heart had led him to believe his mother when she destroyed his world with her delusions. His heart had made him believe that his father was a good, decent man who wanted to take care of his family; that he was, as Nicole Wallace put it, fun and exciting. His heart had betrayed him too many times for him to count. Yet his intuition had always been right when it told him that it was all lies. That there had been something wrong with his mother and that his father wasn't the man he thought he was. The day that he started to rely on his gut feeling instead of what he was being told was the day that he started to hide his heart, his soul, his good natured openness and ability to trust. The injustice of it was that he was only a child when he had to do it.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of bills from his pocket. It wasn't his money. He would never put his own money into the place. The wad of cash came from the money he had gotten out of the bag he had taken off of Alan Cohen. Maybe Logan was right about him when it came to the corruption thing. When he played, he played for keeps and that meant he knew no bounds. He would lie, cheat, and steal if it got him everyone involved. What did that say about him? That when it came to his work, to his obsession, he let that ambitiousness, the beast the rattled around in the depths of his soul, run and run deep.

He had always walked the very thin line between thinking like a criminal and being a criminal. To tilt over that line was too easy for him, and it was something he had to do now for the job. Once he stepped away from the line, it blurred. He just hoped that it wouldn't disappear completely before he was able to get back to it.

Opening the door to his car, he got out, stuffed the money into his pocket, and then shut the door. Pressing the alarm button on his keychain as he walked away from the Mustang, he heard it beep twice as he approached the corner. Across the street directly in front of him was the whorehouse he had watched the night before. The same whorehouse that he had found his own father at a number of times and where he found him on the last time he saw him alive.

The women still swayed out front, barely clothed in the dead night of winter but didn't seem to mind the cold, or they didn't feel due to the drugs or alcohol in their systems. That thought depressed him even more as he got closer to the house and confirmed that there was no music playing that they were moving to. The tune they were swaying to was in their own heads, in their bodies made by the drugs swimming through their veins. As he walked by one of the girls, he looked into her eyes and saw the void in them. The blankness in the eyes of the addict always terrified him. People with that look could do anything to anyone and not feel a thing.

He remembered a guy he was trying to take down while working Narcotics who had that exact same look. The man, Daryl Cross, had been high on both cocaine and PCP and he had been chasing him for three miles before Daryl ran into the street and was hit accidentally by the responding patrol car. He had thought he was down but was shocked when he saw Daryl get up, jump on the hood of the police car, and then threw himself through the windshield. Daryl then pulled the officer out through the shattered windshield and proceeded to try and strangle the cop with his radio cord. At seeing Daryl trying to kill the officer, he had no choice but to shoot the guy. He had emptied his clip into him and that only seemed to piss the guy off even more. Daryl left the unconscious officer on the ground and started toward him with a knife he had pulled out of his pocket. He had reloaded and had to shoot the man ten more times before he finally dropped the knife and hit his knees. Twenty-five bullets was what it took to drop Daryl, to get him to stop. It was the first and last time he had taken a life in the line of duty. Every now and then that memory would invade his dreams and he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Opening the front door, he slipped inside. The inside of the house didn't look anything like it did twenty years ago. There was carpet covering the hardwood floors, some of the walls were spray painted, the chandelier that hung from the ceiling was illuminated by red light bulbs; the furniture was the only items in the house that looked expensive. Back when his father went there, it was a place that had a little class. There was no class in that house. Nothing but wastefulness.

A woman, like all those years ago, greeted him once he was inside the door; only she wasn't Vietnamese. She was a tall Puerto Rican woman and she was wearing a leather vest and a short pair of leather shorts and boots that came up to her knees. "Can I help you?"

Bobby blinked back at her as he glanced around the foyer. The girls that weren't busy at the moment, or standing outside, were sitting on couches and big fluffy chairs that were lined down the hall. From what he knew about his serial murderer, he preferred young brunettes. There were more than a few hanging out on the couches and chairs, but as he thought more about his profile of the killer and the women that he had killed, they were all also fair-skinned, well toned, dark eyes, and…He saw her near the back.

The young girl was standing instead of sitting. She had a hard look about her, and a resolve like even though she was young she had been through it all, hell and back. That was the kind of confidence his killer liked to take away from the women he killed. Just killing the women of the night wasn't enough, he had to take the strong ones, the ones that might be able to, if the drugs didn't get them, turn their lives around and get the hell out.

Pointing down the hall to her, he didn't give the hostess a choice. "Her. How much?"

The Puerto Rican woman looked to who he was pointing to and suddenly shook her head. "She's unavali-"

"She looks available to me," he snapped.

"At the moment she is, but a customer has already-"

"Is he here now?" he demanded as he looked around. "Because I don't see him. I'll pay twice whatever he put down for her."

At that offer, the woman seemed to reconsider. "He's not going to be happy that you're taking his girl, but okay. You have half an hour. He'll be here in an hour."

"You think I'm going to need thirty minutes to get clear of here so he doesn't kill me?"

She stared hard at him as she motioned for the girl to come over. "Something like that."

Bobby was suddenly interested in knowing who this man was she was talking about. It could be his killer if he was that particular about having _his_ girl on retainer just for him. "How much was that?"

"Two thousand."

"Two thousand for half an hour?" Bobby asked in disbelief. Not that he cared, he just couldn't believe the guy would pay a thousand to keep the girl for himself. "How long does the other guy get with her?"

"However long he wants. Are you going to pay?" she asked like he wasn't; that he was going to get someone else for cheaper.

Bobby surprised her by pulling out the cash and counting out two thousand with plenty left. In fact, he had eight thousand left. Alan Cohen had twenty thousand in that backpack he took off him. Ten was going to be used to get the corrupt drug squad to offer them up their services, and the other ten was fair game for whatever came along, like catching a serial killer. Handing the money to her, he thanked her before following the young girl up the winding staircase.

Glancing down at the woman, he saw her watching him the whole entire way. "She your mother?"

"No, she's my sister."

Bobby looked at the girl as he nodded. "And your parents let you do this with her?"

The girl looked up at him like he was a moron. "My parents aren't aware of me doing anything. They're dead." Opening the door and the end of the hall, she let him go in front of her before she came in and shut the door.

The stench in the room wasn't the repulsive smell of sweat and sex that he thought it would be. It held a scent of rosemary and cherries. He saw the scented candles on the tables next to the bed that was covered in a silky red sheet and nothing else. "This your room?"

"Yes. We all have one of our own. You ask a lot of questions."

Bobby turned back to her and nodded a little. He wasn't sure if he should tell her that he was a cop yet or not. She seemed curious, suspicious, and a little apprehensive about answering the simple, innocent questions that he had asked. "I got another one, how old are you?"

She smiled seductively at him as she crossed the floor to him. The girl had one a long black dress, white pearls, and her dark hair was pulled back. "How old do you want me to be?"

Holding his hands out, stopping her advance, he asked again, "How old?"

Sighing, she rolled her eyes as she told him, "Twenty-five."

"Yeah, and I'm twelve."

Laughing a little she went over to the vanity that was against the opposite wall and took something out of a drawer. Handing it to him, she said, "No one ever believes me."

Taking the license, he verified that not only was it real but she was twenty-five years old and her name was Lindsey Broyles. "You don't look a day over sixteen," he told her as he handed back the license.

The smile she sent him was a practiced one, he could tell because the muscle movement was all wrong. "I accept the compliment."

"You, um, you seem very intelligent, why…"

"Why am I here?" Lindsey asked before shrugging. "I like it."

"Bullshit," he told her as she come back over to him.

"It's none of your business, and like you care." Looking at the clock, she informed him, "You're down to twenty-three minutes." Lindsey went to slip off the dress when he placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her.

Closing his eyes, he pushed down his anger and the temptation the girl was presenting him. Once he reopened his eyes, he told her, "I know what I paid for. I paid for half an hour with you. It's up to me what I do, correct?"

"Yeah, but…"

"I just want to talk. That's it," he sincerely told her and hoped she believed him. Bobby watched as she thought that over. He was right about her, she was strong, and she was also smart as she took her time to consider his offer instead of playing stupid. He would have felt the urge to slap her if she had done that.

"Fine, suit yourself."

As Lindsey readjusted the straps back on her dress, Bobby breathed out a little easier as he looked around the room once again. Not wanting to get anywhere near the bed, he ventured over to the vanity.

"Why me?"

Bobby looked over at her when she asked that. "Because, I liked the way you looked."

"That I'm sexy, beautiful, _desirable_."

"Resolute, confident, and yes, desirable." On her vanity, she had small wallet size photos of other girls and in a few were her with her sister. "Is she really your sister?"

"Not by blood, but she's been looking out for me and raising me for nearly ten years. She's available, if you want her instead. I think she liked you."

Bobby glanced up at the young girl, woman, before he opened the top drawer.

"Hey! That's my stuff," Lindsey yelled at him as she stepped over and pushed it close. Pushing him back, she told him, "Stay out."

Bobby held up his hands as he stared down at her. In the top drawer, before she shut it, he saw the cocaine next to the box of condoms. "How high are you right now? Because, you don't look it, or act it. Does, the uh, the man that's keeping you for himself not like it when you're high?"

Lindsey shrugged as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know. I wasn't expecting you. I usually get high just before he gets here, so when it kicks in…"

Bobby saw the look in her eyes and the pained resolve that she was fighting back. "You can't feel it, and…you'll be able to just…go away, hide in the fantasy you've created in your head."

"Sounds like you know something about it. Want a taste?" she asked as she slid the drawer open and went to get out the cocaine.

Bobby put his hand on hers, once again stopping her. "When I want something, I'll let you know." Her hand wrapped around his as she stared up into his eyes with her hazel eyes; it was smooth and soft and it caressed over his hand in a way that twisted his deeply dark yearnings. Removing his hand from hers, he stepped back to give her room between him and the vanity.

"You're a newbie, that's why you're so…_jumpy_."

Bobby nodded a little, letting her gain the upper hand for a moment. He knew in order to get her to talk to him, trust him, when he did finally ask about the murdered girls, that she had to feel like the one in control, that she wasn't being played. That he wasn't using her.

Stepping closer to him, Lindsey looked him up and down before easing up against him. "You're very good looking in your expensive suit, Armani? And you have no wedding ring or tan line. You've been drinking, I can smell the scotch on you, as well as the cigarette smoke. You could have possibly gotten a date from any woman at the bar you just came from, yet, you came here. You either have serious issues and you were hoping I was actually underage because you're a pedophile, or…you're a cop."

Bobby smiled a little as he felt her hand slide around his belt and then tapped his shield that was still attached to it. "You're good."

"I'm not stupid. So, are you here to shake us down Mr. Cop, or are you really looking for some whore to get you off?"

"I told you, I just want to talk. I'm not here to shake you down. I'm here because I'm afraid for you. I want to protect you," he honestly and desperately told her. At seeing the shocking disbelief in her eyes, he leaned down closer. "I want to know about this guy who's about to come in here for you."

"I can't-"

"I told you that when I wanted something, I'd let you know. I want him, Lindsey. I want to know everything you have to tell me about him."

TBC…


	15. A week before Christmas

It was Saturday December the 18th, a week before Christmas, and he didn't know what he was going to get for Alex as a gift. He didn't even know what he was going to get his mother. Wandering into his kitchen after he had taken a long shower to wake himself up, he saw that Elliot had left a note on the counter. It seemed that Elliot had plans with his own family this weekend, and he was looking for an apartment with his kids help.

Bobby reread the note before balling it up and tossing it into the trash. Elliot was leaving him. Taking a beer out of the refrigerator he went to twist the cap off when he stopped himself. It was going on nine o'clock in the morning and he was thinking about drinking already. He didn't need to drink, he needed to get out of the house and do something productive. Going over to the counter, he picked up his keys and wallet and left.

The snow was falling once again as he drove through the Brooklyn neighborhoods toward Rockaway. New York in the winter time was always a sight to see; he would never get used to it. The spirit of the holiday was everywhere around him, radiating from every street corner and block were lights and decorations and signs advertising some sale on items ranging from furniture to diamond rings.

As he stopped for a red light, he eyed the display out in front of one of the jewelry stores. He did need to get Alex a gift, and all women liked jewelry. Taking a right instead of going straight, he found a parking spot and hurried into the store.

Thirty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Alex's house in Rockaway and got out. He saw Alex's car parked on the street and as he started up the walk, the front door swung open and she walked out.

"Bobby?" Alex asked in surprise as she was about to shut the front door. "What're…" she trailed off as he held up the wrapped jewelry box in his hand.

"I came over to give you this. It's…for you. You can, um, you know put it under your tree," Bobby told her as he walked up to the steps and looked up at her. "Can I come in for a minute?"

Alex walked back into the house as she kept the door open for him. "Yeah, sure, come in. I was about to go to my parents."

Bobby eased by her and looked around the living room. Spotting the little tree that was on the table in front of the window, he sat the gift for her next to it as he asked, "Why your parents?"

"They need help getting their house ready. All my father's old Christmas lights stopped working so he had to buy new ones and they haven't even decorated or gotten a tree yet."

Turning to her, he asked, "Are we still having dinner tonight?"

Alex closed her eyes as she told him, "I'm sorry, I forgot. It's probably going to be an all day thing with my parents. They're watching the kids, Amy and Amber and Nathan, and we were going to take them into the city, you know. Go ice skating and walk around Rockefeller Plaza, see the tree, and do some shopping." Looking at him in anticipation, she asked, "Do you want to come?"

Bobby wasn't expecting the invitation. Feeling a little uncomfortable about facing her family again, he asked, "Why would they expect me to come? Don't they know that we've been separated?" When she didn't answer, he looked down at her. "Eames?"

Alex smiled slightly in as much innocence as she could gather. "No, Bobby, I didn't tell them. I explained that since you were working on Staten Island, that it was hard to get together with you, and that you're always busy, which you are. And since you never come to Thanksgiving with me anyway, they assumed you were with your mother, which you were."

"You lied to them. Why did you do that?"

"I didn't want them to hate you, and we were only separated. Until I figured things out, I didn't want your relationship with them to be completely ruined."

At hearing her honesty, he shook his head as he felt again her love for him. Bobby was confused, yet grateful for her thoughtfulness toward him. "You were protecting them, and me? I, Alex…I don't know what to say to that except…thanks."

Smiling at him, she came up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Pulling back, she told him, "You're welcome. Now come on, they're waiting."

The drive to Queens was mostly in silence and he didn't mind it. He was still trying to get himself to accept that Alex had lied to her whole family for him. She could have very easily told them the truth, set them all against him, but she hadn't. She had protected his relationship with them and the trust that they put into him to protect her. No words or emotions could describe what he was feeling as he drove her closer to her parents house. He felt his chest tighten with gratitude, and appreciation, as he looked over at her in the passenger seat of his Mustang.

Alex looked up from what she was doing on her cell phone and smiled at him. "What?"

Bobby shook his head as he went back to driving. A few miles later, as they entered her parents neighborhood, he told her, "I appreciate this, Alex. I mean that." Stopping the car in front of her parents house, he put the car into park and set the emergency brake.

"Why'd you do that?"

Looking at her in confusion, he thought she was talking about putting the emergency brake on. "It's a stick shift. I always-"

"No, Bobby," she silenced him as she grabbed his hand and leaned into his side. "You just told me that you appreciate something that I've done for you, something you hardly ever do, and yet you immediately let it go as soon as you said it."

Bobby wasn't sure what she was asking, so he said, "Well, I can't exactly spend an hour talking about this or dwelling on my feelings. If you want to talk about it later, we can, but your parents are expecting you."

"There you go again, you're dismissing it all."

"I'm not dismissing anything, I just think that at the moment it's not important." Opening the car door, he pulled the keys out of the ignition before getting out.

Alex got out as well and shut the car door a little harder than usual.

Stopping her before she could stomp her way up to the front door, he turned her to him as he apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Bobby, we haven't been together in nearly two months, and you know how hard it was for the both of us, and for the first time since our break up, you acknowledged to me that I'm appreciated by you. For us, at this moment, that's huge, and yet you pushed it aside. I'm not trying to make this into another thing to argue about, and I'm not even that mad at you, but I want you to stop trying to keep the emotional connection out of our relationship. If you feel something, let me know. Let us talk about that instead of arguing about not talking about it. Okay?"

Bobby took that in and instead of getting angry like he usually did, he only gave a slight nod. "Okay. We'll talk about it, I promise, just not right now."

Alex seemed to be weighing something in her head again as she watched him. Slowly nodding, she agreed.

Following her up the steps into the house, he was surprised that as soon as he entered the warm house that he was attacked. Nathan came running out of nowhere and laughing as he was being chased by the two twin girls. The boy hid behind him as the girls tried to get around his legs to get at little boy. Pleading for help from Alex, she only laughed and waved at him as she disappeared into the kitchen.

The girls finally got Nathan and held him down on the floor while they tickled him. Bobby felt sorry for Nathan when the boy started telling them to 'op' and they wouldn't. Figuring 'op' meant 'stop', he bent down and picked him up much to the girls displeasure.

"Hey, we were playin' with him!" one of the girls whined.

He could never tell Amy and Amber apart, so he had no idea which one it was. "Give him a break guys." Lying, he told the girls, "I want to hang out with him for a while. Okay?"

"Fine," they said in unison before they took off up the stairs.

Nathan seemed happy about it as he slapped him on the chest before giving him a hug. Bobby had wanted to set the kid down as he bent over and tried to put Nathan on the floor, but it seemed that Nathan had other plans as he wrapped his arms around his neck tighter and refused to let his feet touch the floor. "All right, I guess you're coming with me."

Going into the kitchen, he found Alex helping her mother at the stove and he heard John grunting and cursing. Nathan didn't protest as he sat him on the table before going over to the door to the basement. "John?"

John Eames turned around and smiled up at him. "Hey, Bobby, I wasn't expecting you here."

Suddenly feeling that maybe he wasn't welcomed, he asked, "It's okay, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's great. You can help me. I'm trying to get this box up the steps."

Bobby immediately went down into the basement and grabbed one end of the box. "What's in it?"

"Baking stuff."

He stilled as he stared at John and then eyed the box. "A-a, uh, a whole box full of baking stuff?"

John chuckled as they started up the steps with John being the one to walk backwards. "Yeah, I can't believe it myself. It's full of my wife's baking dishes for pies, and cakes, and Christmas cookie cutters and I don't know what else. But, she usually only really bakes for the holidays, every other day of the year we store buy."

"I see why." Getting to the top of the steps, they turned the corner and Bobby saw both of the women staring at him. "What'd I do?"

"You sat Nathan on the table and then walked away."

Looking down at the kid that looked to be perfectly fine, Bobby shrugged. "He's okay isn't he?"

Alex glared at him. "Oh, he's perfectly fine," she said before she pulled Nathan's hands out from around his back. They were covered in the frosting that had been sitting on the table.

He couldn't stop the laughter at the innocent, and purely naïve look on Nathan's face as he stared licking his hands clean. "Oh, come on. He's a kid.," he said as he and John sat the box down on the table.

"He's not the one in trouble, mister," Alex said as she eased up to him. Pointing up at him, she playfully told him, "You are."

Glancing over at the frosting on the table, he asked seriously, "Oh yeah?" He dipped his finger in the frosting and quickly dabbed it on her nose.

Before Alex could get him back, Emily stopped her by picking up the bowl. "Hey, mom!"

Emily smiled as she went over to the counter with the bowl. "I'm not letting you two ruin the frosting I just made."

"Chalk it up, Eames," Bobby told her as he went to walk around her.

"Oh, I'll chalk it up all right, and I'll get you back, later."

At hearing that threat, Bobby felt the sly smile twist his lips as winked at her. He missed the ease and playfulness of their relationship. It felt wonderful to be able to make her blush and smile like that again; she was in pure amusement with him, and it was fun.

"So, Bobby, what brings you out here today?" John asked as he used a box cutter to cut open the tape on the box.

Glancing over at Alex, he told him, "I was planning on spending time with Alex today when she told me that she was coming over here because you guys needed some help. I figured I'll help."

"That's nice of you. We haven't seen you in months, not since with what happened to Alex. She told us that you visited her a lot, but only after we were all gone, so not to intrude. Plus, the hours you have to put in now as a homicide detective, I bet it's hard for you two to find time to spend together."

Bobby didn't know what to say to that since he had no idea what John was talking about. One look at Alex told him all he needed to know. This was one of the lies she told her parents. "Uh, yeah. I've put in a lot of overtime, my Lieutenant is starting to kick me out the door and giving me weekends off," he was teasing with the last part and it got John to smile.

"That was the one thing that kept me from being a detective, the hours. With patrol I got to go home at the end of my shift every night, God willing."

"And I'm glad," Emily spoke up as she started taking pie pans and cookie cutters out of the box. "You had your family waiting for you to get home."

"Is that why you don't have kids? Because of your job, the hours?"

Bobby wasn't expecting that, but he answered despite the unease it caused him. "Um, partly, yeah. I wouldn't be much of a father if I worked all the time."

John pointed over to Alex as he walked around Emily. "Same with her. She told me that she wouldn't be able to work and be a mom at the same time. So, she sacrificed being a mother for the job, I guess you both have that in common. Want some coffee?"

"Sure, John, thanks," Bobby answered as he glanced over at Alex who was helping her mother. "But then she sacrificed her job to be a mother to her nephew, that was something, wasn't it?"

John turned to him and handed him a cup of coffee with a big grin on his face. "Yes, it was. She's a real trooper."

Catching the look and smirk from Alex at that, Bobby couldn't help but smile right back in amusement at her father. She was definitely a real trooper for having John Eames as her dad. It took a great deal to please the man, but at least he was able to please and he seemed to care and love his family greatly. Taking a sip of the coffee, he watched as the women started sorting through the baking dishes as they figured out what they wanted to make first and what to use.

"Let's leave the women alone. I still have to put the Christmas lights up on the house and it's just not Christmas without a tree. I used to get a real one each year but now it's such a hassle, so I think we're going to go with one of those plastic ones."

Bobby glanced over his shoulder at Alex and saw her laughing at him as he followed her father out of the kitchen. The intimidating man he had first met in October was gone and in his place as a carefree old man that didn't know what kind of Christmas tree to get for his family. He was going to like this John Eames a lot. He didn't feel afraid to actually laugh with the guy, or help him put up lights which he would regret doing twenty minutes later.

He was standing on top of a ladder with a staple gun with two bundles of lights wrapped around his shoulder and trying to hold a nail as John hammered it into the roof. It was cold but not too cold to where he needed gloves and that made him nervous as John pounded at the nail. The only thing good about the whole situation was that there was hardly any snow on the roof for John to slip on.

Glancing down at the ground below him, he hoped that the ladder didn't tilt or fall as he heard John tell him, "Okay, that's the last one."

Bobby looked back at him as he nodded. "So, uh, how do we do this?"

"We wrap the lights around the nails and then staple them down and that's it."

"Right, uh, so that means that I have to get up on the roof?"

John eyed him as he started laughing. "Don't tell me you're afraid to get up here."

"I'm not afraid of coming up, I'm afraid of falling off. Just, give me a minute to steady myself."

"Take all the time you need. I'll take one of the lights and start on the other end. We'll met in the middle, okay?"

Bobby nodded as he handed over one of the bundles to John. He watched as the old man easily walked along the roof to the other end before he stepped the rest of the way up the ladder and got on top of the roof. Doing as John instructed, he let the icicle lights dangle down over the side of the roof as he strung the lights over the nails and then used the staple gun to hold it down.

It took nearly two hours to get all the lights on the house but they got it done without incident and anyone having to be rushed to the hospital. John took the ladder down first as he held it from the top. Once John was down, he held the ladder for him as he made his way down to the ground. Getting to the ground, he helped to carry the ladder back to the garage before John plugged up the lights.

Bobby used the garage door entrance and went right into the kitchen as he told Emily and Alex, "The lights are done."

That got a wave of cheers from the women and the kids who were all gathered in the kitchen helping to make cookies. He watched as the twin girls used the Christmas cookie cutters to make reindeer and Santa Claus cookies. Nathan was standing on a chair and using a star shaped cookie cutter to make impressions in the flour that was over the table.

"All right," Emily announced. "It's time to do the baking! That means it's time for you guys," she said to Alex, "To get the kids ready and take them away from me for the day."

"No!" the twins yelled in unison, something they did a lot.

"But, Grandma, we're not done!"

Emily took the reindeer cookie cutter out of her hand as he told her, "Yes, you are, Amy. You and Grandpa, Aunt Alex, and Bobby are all going into the city."

"Yeah," John said as he came in through the garage door. "I'm taking you guys to see the big Christmas tree in Manhattan and then we're going ice skating and shopping for a tree."

"All right, Grandpa!" Amber exclaimed as she helped Nathan out of the chair. "Come on, lets go get cleaned up and ready to go."

Bobby watched as the all the kids did as she said and ran out of the kitchen to get ready. It seemed like Amber was the twin that was in charge, and she was the more take charge type.

Alex came up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist as she told him, "You look cold."

Smiling down at her, he put his hands on her face, causing her to yelp and push him away.

"Bobby! Your hands are freezing."

Chuckling, he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, something he had deeply missed doing, before telling her, "I'm going to join them and get cleaned up. Where's the bathroom?"

"The kids are probably using the one that's down here, so go up the stairs and take a right. It's at the end of the hall," she told him before adding, "And I better check on them before they flood the house."

Luckily for them the house didn't get flooded and ten minutes later they were out the door. John took the twins in his car as Alex talked him into putting Nathan's car seat in the back of his Mustang. At seeing her place the car seat behind his driver's seat, Bobby tensed and closed his eyes.

"Relax, Bobby," Alex told him. "It's only leather. Breathe."

Opening his eyes, he stared down at her as he looked at Nathan who had somehow ended up in his arms once again. "I only have one rule, he can't have anything with him. No food, no drinks, no crayons, no nothing."

"He'll cry the whole way into the city."

"Then he'll cry. I'm not risking him doing damage to my car."

Alex shook her head at him as she took her nephew from his arms. "Don't listen to Uncle Bobby, Nate, he's just grumpy and overprotective about his leather seats."

Rolling his eyes at her, he waited until she got Nathan secured into the seat before he could put the put the driver's seat back and get in. Turning to look at the little boy in the back, he wished he had taught Alex how to drive to a stick shift. He was uncomfortable being the one responsible for driving his car with a kid in the backseat.

"Are we going?"

"Yeah," he told Alex as he started the car. "I'm just a little nervous. I've never driven with a child in my car before. I'm going to have to be extra careful."

"It's always good to know that you're not extra careful with me in the car with you."

Glancing over at Alex, he actually grabbed his seatbelt and put it on.

"Oh, wow, and you're wearing your seatbelt. I'm impressed. You should drive kids every day if they're going to make you value our lives."

"Eames, I get it. I need to consider everyone that's in my car more." Bobby looked over at her and smiled a little. "And I am careful when you're in my car. The two times that you've actually been in it," he added as he released the emergency brake. Shifting the car into gear, he pulled away from the curb and followed behind John's car as they made their way toward Manhattan.

* * *

He had never experienced the Christmas season with a normal family before; it was nearly overwhelming. The twins were wanting to do and see everything and once they stopped whining about things, they were actually fun to be around. They had decided to see the tree in Rockefeller Plaza last after they did the ice skating and shopping. Alex had even talked her father into a horse carriage ride through Central Park, and the twins were ecstatic about that as they couldn't wait to see what color horse they got.

Bobby didn't get a say in anything and he was glad for it. He felt that he had no right telling the family what they could or couldn't do during their day together. During the whole day, he felt out of place like an outsider. Even though he was getting along with John and enjoying the youthful nature of the children as they dragged him out onto the ice and laughed at him as he fell not once, but three times, he couldn't help but feel that he wasn't a part of them and probably never would be, not completely.

He had learned a long time ago how to smile and nod and laugh and show that he was having fun and enjoying spending time with someone else's family even when he wasn't comfortable and didn't actually feel it. He had also without wanting to, blocked her family out for most of the day. When they had gone on the carriage ride, he had completely disconnected without even realizing it when Alex and her father started to talk about her childhood. Then when they were shopping, he kept a distance from them as they talked about things to get for family members and laughed over things that they would hate. Seeing the father/daughter bond stirred his own yearning for that kind of bond and it had set him off on not thinking about it. The not thinking about it turned into not feeling it which in turn made him shut down from them. Hence the reason why he kept his distance throughout the stores.

The gratitude was there for Alex and her family, and he did have fun, but he couldn't get himself to accept it all. To let himself feel the pure happiness that they felt. He didn't know how too. To him they weren't his family and he had no connection to them other than that they were Alex's family, and they were people, and for that he felt protective of them. He wouldn't let anything happen to them as long as he was around to do something about it.

Even as he picked Nathan up and sat him on his shoulders so he could get a better view of the Christmas tree that became a staple in the city of New York during the holiday season, there was no sense of excitement. He was standing with Alex at his side, his arm wrapped around her as she leaned against his side, and John and the twins were next to her and taking pictures on their cell phones and digital cameras, and yet he was at an emotional blank. He didn't know how to express the excitement, and the happiness he knew he was supposed to be feeling. Feeling the family bond wasn't in him. He hoped it would grow, that it would one day feel easy, and normal.

"Are you having a good time?" Alex asked as she looked up at him.

Bobby looked down at her and smiled a little. "Yeah. It was a good day, but I'm going to be sore tomorrow. Your nieces killed me on the ice."

Alex laughed at him as she pushed up on her toes and kissed him. "I'm glad you had a good time." She was silent for a moment before she told him, "I know that you were gone half the time."

Bobby waited for her to continue was he felt the guilt twist in his stomach.

She looked back up at him as she asked, "I realized it when we were shopping. I kept looking around for you and finding you wondering around all by yourself yet you weren't looking for anything to buy."

"I didn't do it on purpose. I usually never do it on purpose, it's just a response I have."

Alex nodded a little as she went back to looking at the tree and then her father who was walking the girls around to the other side of it. "We better follow." Reaching up, she took Nathan off his shoulders before she followed after her dad. "So, why do you think you do it? You felt like you didn't belong?"

Bobby closed his eyes and groaned. He knew that question was coming. "Honestly, yes, I did, but I never feel that I belong with other people's families. I mean, just ask Declan, or Lewis, or anyone else's families who I've spent time with. Lewis is my best friend, and I've spent plenty of time with him and his family, yet, I can still block them out. When I was with Declan, I barely noticed he had a daughter yet alone what was going on in her life. It's not intentional; it's a defense mechanism, a survival technique that I learned as a kid and I still do it. I'll try not to do it but I can't guarantee anything."

Alex smiled up at him. "As long as you try. And, Bobby, thanks for the honesty."

Smiling back down at her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and he pulled her to him. "Thanks for the understanding."

By the time they made it back to Alex's parents, the kids were asleep. Bobby had Alex unfasten the car seat since he didn't know how before he picked the whole car seat up with Nathan still in it asleep inside it and carried it to the house. When Emily opened the door for him, he could smell the freshly baked desserts. "It smells wonderful in here."

"And I promise that the food tastes even better," Emily told him as she gave the sleeping boy a kiss on the cheek. "Take him down the hall to the first bedroom."

Doing as she told him, Bobby took the car seat along with Nathan into the bedroom. Sitting the car seat down on the floor, he waited until Alex came into the room with one of the sleeping twins followed by John who had the other before he left the room. He went into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water and downed it before taking out the milk and filling the glass with it.

Picking up one of the decorated Santa Claus cookies that was on a plate in the middle of the table, he sat down and took a bite out of it as he waited for Alex to come into the kitchen.

When she did, she smiled over at him and picked one of the stars and took a bite. "These are always amazing." Coming over to him, she dipped her cookie into his milk before taking another bite. "I'm going to have to stay the night here. There is no way I'm making my parents wake up to Nathan and the twins all by themselves. Plus, Nate still wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes crying."

"That's fine. Um, I can go."

"Or, you can stay and have dinner with us first before you leave."

Bobby dunked his cookie into the milk before finishing it off. Downing the rest of the milk, he shrugged as he told her, "Okay." Taking the glass over to the sink, he cleaned it out before leaving the kitchen.

Going up to the bathroom on the second floor, he closed the door and went over to the sink. Running the water into his hands, he slashed his face a little before looking through the medicine cabinet. His body was on fire with pain. His knee was killing him from the ice skating, and his hand was hurting from falling on it a few times, and the rest of his body was aching as well.

Not finding anything that could help with the pain, he sighed heavily as he was left with one option. Leaving the bathroom, he went down the steps and then out the front door to his car. He had tossed the bottle of pain medication into his glove box. Taking them out, he tapped one into his hand before putting them back and shutting the car door. As he went back into the house, he saw Alex sitting with her father on the couch and she was watching him.

"What'd you forget?"

Bobby shook his head. "I'm in a lot of pain and went to get some medication I had out in the car." The fact that he didn't have to lie about it was a relief. He knew that if she ever asked, he would tell her the truth, but she also didn't know where the pills came from. She would probably assumed that his doctor prescribed them.

"You finally went and got a prescription?"

_In a way…_"Yeah." Going into the kitchen, he downed the pill with another glass of water.

Emily was looking through coupons and ads at the counter as she asked, "Do you have any objections to us ordering in?"

Bobby shook his head as he told her, "Sounds good to me. I wasn't expecting you to cook dinner anyway after you baked all day."

Emily smiled at him as she pulled out a flyer near the bottom of the pile. "Good; here you go," she said as she handed it to him. "You can order. I want the ham and cheese Stromboli."

Bobby took the flyer from here and looked it over. It was a menu from an Italian restaurant that was a few blocks over. Nodding a little, he went out into the kitchen and asked John and Alex what they wanted before he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number. After he placed the order he collapsed into the recliner and leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Was it that bad of a day?"

Opening his eyes, he smiled over at Emily as he told her, "No. The kids just wore me out."

"They made Bobby ice skate with them," Alex told her mother. "And he wasn't very good at it."

Smiling a little, he closed his eyes again as he barely listened to what was being said around him. He was exhausted and the pain medicine was easing all the pain in his body, making it easy for him to relax. It wouldn't take long before he would be asleep.

"You don't go to church on Christmas do you, Bobby?"

Shaking his head, he peered over at John as he told him, "Not since I left the church."

"Your family never cared enough about religion to keep you going?"

Rubbing at his tired, heavy eyes, Bobby had to almost force the words out of him. It was even exhausting to speak. "Well, my mother did, but after a while, and with her illness, she didn't even go. And if my father cared about religion I'll be celebrating Hanukah."

Alex looked at him funny as he said that. "You're not Jewish."

Bobby stared over at her in disbelief. "Alex," he said like he was talking to a child. "Haven't you realized that Goren isn't an Italian last name? My father wasn't Italian, and he certainly wasn't Catholic. He was a Russian Jew. His grandparents immigrated right over from Russia. I have my great-grandfather's Torah in my study. You've seen it."

"I didn't know it was your great-grandfathers', you didn't tell me. And I didn't even think about your last name."

He tried to stay awake, but he felt his eyes close again. With the exhaustion that was taking over his mind and body, he wasn't going to make it to when the food got there.

* * *

He felt a weight shift on him, and then a warmth. The warmth wrapped around him and trapped him in like a cocoon. Burying himself in the warmth, he went to it willingly and openly. The warmth stayed and so did the weight that pressed against his chest and on his legs. A breath touched his face, then his neck and it sent a shiver down his back and stirred his growing desire. Turning toward the breath, he felt the light feature touches of kisses over his jaw and then on his lips.

Leaving the dark comfort of sleep, he breathed out into a kiss as he parted his heavy eyelids. The room was dark with the only light coming from the fire that was burning in the fireplace. Alex was sitting on his lap and his arms were wrapped tightly around her, holding her in place against him.

Ending the kiss, he moved her hair out from her face as he stared into her caramel colored eyes. He took a moment to catch his breath as he closed his eyes and steadied his racing heart. Running his thumb over the skin he had been yearning after for months he brought her face down to his. Kissing over her eyes, nose, cheeks, and then her jaw up to her ear he whispered, "Thank you."

"How long are you going to be thanking me?"

"Every day, for the rest of my life."

Alex stared down into his eyes and he saw the twinkle of tears in them. Never liking the sight of tears in her eyes, even from happiness, he tried to rub them away as he kissed her deeply.

They stayed that way for a while, holding, touching, and kissing each other until the fire in the fireplace died down. He was too tired to do anything more, even though he wanted to, but along with the medication and his own exhaustion he couldn't generate the will or energy. Alex didn't seem to care as she was content with the closeness and the intimacy of being together for the first time in nearly two months.

Alex ended a kiss they were sharing before resting her head on his. "You're shaking."

"Am I?" he asked as he mentally surveyed his body. Feeling it in his back, he realized that he was shaking, quivering, but it wasn't from being cold. He didn't know what it was from. There was hardly any pain but it felt like his muscles were having spasms. "It's, uh…I probably hurt my back, pulled a muscle or something."

"Want me to get you something for it?"

Bobby shook his head. "I'll deal with it when I get home. What time is it anyway?"

Alex looked over her shoulder somewhere before telling him, "It's after two."

Rubbing at his eyes, he fought off the sudden fatigue as he nodded. "I need to go, and you need to get to bed."

"I did. I slept for four hours before I woke up and came out here to get you up."

Bobby smiled a little at her as he told her, "How considerate. What if I wanted to stay asleep in this recliner all night?"

"I'm sure that's what you had in mind. Waking up in pain, aching everywhere, and having three very loud kids running around."

Giving it little thought he quickly told her, "Yeah, I should leave."

Alex chuckled as she kissed him again, dragging it out to minutes, before she pulled away.

"Never mind; I should stay."

For that, she kissed him again but pulled away quickly as she said, "I want us to work this out."

Looking into her eyes, he nodded in agreement. "So do I. I'll do…Alex, I'll do just about anything to keep you with me."

"You don't need to do anything. I think we can do this without anyone sacrificing anything. I know we're both not going to change, and I honestly think we don't have to."

"I can't keep ignoring you. I don't want to keep doing it if it's going to cause you hurt."

"Bobby," Alex said as she rubbed her hands up along the back of his neck. "Does my love hurt you?"

Feeling and knowing the weight of that question, Bobby closed his eyes as he told her, "Yes, it does."

"And you bear it?"

Bobby opened his eyes to be staring into hers. "Yes, but I want to, have to."

"Then what makes you think that I don't want to bear yours?"

Not having any words to respond, he shook his head in disbelief once again at how she had completely put him in his place. How she had conveyed once again her love for him and how deeply it went by solidifying it for him with his own love for her. Feeling the surge of emotions that threatened his control, and the lingering pain, he had to push them away. "I-I really should get going."

Alex looked disappointed but she nodded anyway as she slid off his lap.

The loss of her presence made him shiver with cold as he slowly stood. Pulling her to him for a hug, he tried to capture the warmth back before having to leave her for the rest of the night. "Tell everyone I'm sorry for falling asleep."

"They understand. My dad only ate half his food before going to bed."

"I, uh, I think I want to join you and your family for Christmas."

Alex pulled away as she looked at him in shock. "Really?"

Smiling at the surprise and disbelief, he told her, "Yeah, really. I've been thinking about it and I, uh…I want to be with you. I'll see my mother Christmas Eve and instead of going into work, I'll take the holiday off for once."

Alex pulled him down into a tight hug as she told him, "If you break this, I'll hunt you down, Goren."

Laughing, he kissed her neck and up to her lips before finally pulling himself away. "I won't, promise. So, I'll see you, um…Well, I might see you tomorrow, but if not then maybe we can get dinner Monday after work."

"I'll like that."

Giving her one last kiss, he let her led him to the door where he put on his coat and gloves before heading out into the cold night.

TBC…


	16. Expect only the best from our mothers

A/N: This chapter was inspired in part by two songs: 'Mother' by Pink Floyd and 'Colorblind' by Counting Crows. I own no rights to any of the songs. I hope you enjoy!

This chapter is rated **M**

* * *

"_Bobby-Bobby-Bobby, come in here!"_

_He had barely gotten through the front door when he heard his mother calling for him from the kitchen. "Hang on, ma!" he yelled through the apartment as he unzipped his coat and hung it on the coat rack. Taking the library books he had gotten for himself with him, he went into the kitchen and stopped at the doorway. The plate of food he had made for her was shattered on the floor by the wall she had thrown it at. "You didn't want the breakfast I made you?"_

_His mother was sitting at the kitchen table, chain smoking through a carton and sipping on another cup of coffee. "You poisoned it," she accused him as she looked out the window. "I could smell it, the arsenic you put in the eggs."_

"_Mom, I didn't put arsenic in your eggs…I ate the same ones."_

_Turning her crazed eyes to him, she told him, "I saw you. I watched you when you didn't think I was looking."_

_He knew that arguing with her wasn't going to work. There was nothing he could do or say to reason with her when she was like that; he was getting so sick and tired of trying to prove himself to her. Of proving he wasn't trying to kill her or to prove that he wasn't a demon imitating her son. Glancing out the window at the falling snow that he had just walked through for over four miles to the library and back, he asked, "What'd you want?"_

"_How do I look?" she asked as she stood up from the table and showed off her outfit; her movements were so dramatic it was like she was posing. The outfit was horribly mismatched. She wore a flower blouse with a multicolored stripped skirt and she was wearing a pair of red high heels. "Well, is your mother something or what?"_

"_You're definitely something, ma. Stunning," he told her as he went over to the coffee pot. It still had enough in it for one more cup. Opening the cabinets he saw it empty. Scratching his head in annoyance, he had to search around the kitchen until he found the cups in the cupboard under the sink, next to the bleach and glass cleaner. "Why'd you rearrange the cabinets again?"_

"_I'm preparing for my big dinner. Wanna know who I'm having dinner with, Bobby?"_

"_Sure, ma," he said as he filled the cup with the last of the coffee and took a sip. It needed milk. "Who is it this time?"_

"_Elvis."_

_At that, he looked over at his mother and frowned. The last time she thought Elvis was coming to have dinner with her it had been Hell for him. He felt like laughing, but the last time he actually laughed at something she thought was real, she had a violent outburst. He didn't want that, not today. It was Christmas for Christ's sake. _

_Taking the carton of milk out he put a little into the cup before putting it back in the refrigerator. Stirring in the milk, he went over to the table and sat down across from her. "Elvis. The King of Rock 'n Roll, is coming here?"_

_The sense of excitement coming from her was terrifying. She looked as giddy as a school girl over something that was completely in her head. "Yes! Oh, we're going to have such a good time, Bobby. I want you to-"_

"_Ma, I'm not cooking dinner for Elvis. I'll cook for you, but the King is on his own."_

_She stared over at him in disappointment at his answer. "Why?" she asked as she blew out a lung full of smoke. "Don't you like him?"_

_Rubbing at his face, he willed the urge to not yell at her and destroy her delusional world again. As he tried to figure out what to tell her, he noticed that she was starting to withdraw further away from him. He was losing her. "Mom?"_

_She had turned away from him and was staring out the window. The distant look in her eyes unnerved him and he knew that he wouldn't be able to reach her for a while. Shaking his head, he reached over and took the cigarette that was about to burn her fingers out of her hand. She didn't even flinch when he did it. Putting that one in his mouth, he took a new one out of the pack and gave it to her before taking out his own lighter and lighting it for her. Taking the last puff off the old cigarette, he blew out the smoke before putting it out in the overflowing ashtray. His mother had stopped yelling at him about his own smoking habit a while ago. She no longer noticed what he did unless she thought it affected her._

_After he finished the cup of coffee, he left the kitchen and went through the apartment toward his bedroom. When he took the turn down the hallway his eyes looked toward his room and he froze_. _His door was open but the wrong way; it had been taken off the hinges and swung the opposite way. He slowly walked down the hall with a twisted sinking feeling in his stomach. The lock he had on the outside of his door was still locked in place and it was what was keeping the door upright against the wall. _

_As he stood in the doorway to his room, he felt his body numb. The library books that had been in his hand slipped and fell to the floor. His room was destroyed. Everything he owned was broken, damaged, or torn to pieces, even his bed sheets and blanket were in shreds. His clothes were thrown around the room and the window was open. Going over to it, he looked out and saw that some of his clothes were scattered over the fire escape and down in the alley. Moving away from the window he went to his closet and opened the door. It looked the same as the room. All his things, destroyed. His basketball still had the knife sticking in it that she used to flatten it._

_His mother had completely destroyed his room, his sanctuary, his world. The bitch. His breathing was becoming forced, shallow, as he started to tremble. Closing his eyes, he felt his head spin at the feeling that was pulsing through him. It was worse than anger, it was rage. He was struggling to keep it under control, but she…She had taken his door down, had come into his locked bedroom, and had fucking ruined everything he ever owned, valued, and appreciated. All the things he had bought, had worked hard for and spent his own money on, and she took it all from him because she thought he had tried to kill her._

_Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his school bag out of the closet and packed it with what clothes he could, grabbed the library books, and left. Going into the kitchen, he picked up a pack of cigarettes off the table and stuffed it into his pocket. "You know what today is, mom?"_

_She only stared at him._

_He leaned down on the table as he told her, "It's Christmas, and I'm leaving you. I can't do this anymore." _

_The words had no impact on her; she shrugged and turned away, took a long pull off the cigarette and then blew the smoke out as she said, "I don't want you here anyway. Go, abandon me like everyone else you ungrateful boy….Prodigal son. God will hate you, Bobby."_

"_He already does, and you know what, fuck Elvis," he told her as he left the kitchen and then the apartment._

Blinking his eyes open, he saw the time on the alarm clock by the bed. It was five in the morning, that meant he had gotten less than four hours of sleep. Groaning into the pillow, he turned onto his back as he rubbed his aching head at the memory that had woken him up. It wasn't a dream, but an actual memory. He had run away for the second time on Christmas morning because his mother had thought he was trying to poison her and in her act of revenge against him, she had destroyed everything he owned.

He didn't return back home until the police came looking for him after he missed the first three weeks of school. They had him down as a truant and had gone to the apartment to talk to him. When the police got there they realized that he wasn't just skipping school but that he was missing; a runaway. They had tracked him down to a friend's house he was staying at with his then girlfriend Jackie who was also a runaway because her father had been abusive to her. The night the police came and got him he nearly ended up in jail. Not only had he been drunk when they took him into custody but also high as well; it didn't help that his friend was twenty-seven years old and knew he was a runaway and didn't say anything.

They took him to the police station and made him wait there until his parents came and got him. They never did. His father didn't care and his mother was in one of her delusions that she told the police to, as she put it, "keep the demon in jail." What got him out of trouble was the detective that had been on duty that night. The cop, Keith Dowd, wasn't a detective who specialized in juvenile cases, but a narcotics detective who had been assigned to the juvenile division. He remembered Detective Keith Dowd very well, and he was still grateful to the man.

_They had sat him down on a bench in the hallway of the police station and handcuffed one of his hands to it. Twisting his body around he laid down across the bench, propped his feet up on the top of it, and stared up at the ceiling as his head spun with the alcohol that was coursing through his body. Closing his eyes against the nausea it caused, he sighed heavily as he waited to be taken either into custody until the weekend was over or taken home since his parents weren't coming to get him. In the state he was in, he didn't want to go home, and he didn't want to stay either. He wanted to, just…disappear. When he got high, that was what it felt like he was doing, disappearing. It had felt good until the paranoia started to set in, then it had freaked him out so bad he locked himself in the bathroom and hid in the bathtub until the probing thoughts went away. _

_That was where the police found him, huddled up in the bathtub in Waylon's apartment and using his leather jacket as a pillow while he slept. He was still tired, having been up all night partying with Waylon and his friends, and Jackie. For some reason, as he laid there, he had Pink Floyd's song Brain Damage stuck in his head. So, being as drunk and high as he was, he had to sing to, loudly, for all the cops to hear even though he couldn't remember all the words._

"_The lunatic is the hall, the lunatics are in my hall, the paper holds their folded faces to the floor, and every day, the paperboy brings more…The lunatic is in my head…you raise the blade, you make the change, you rearrange me 'til I'm sane. You lock the door, and throw away the key, and their's someone in my head, but it's not me. And if the clouds burst, thunder in your ear, you shout and no one seems to hear! And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes…I'll see you on the dark side of the moon-"_

"_Shut up, Robert. No one wants to hear you sing," the cop told him in a heavy Jersey accent as he walked up to him and pushed his legs off the side of the bench. "Robert Oliver Goren, fifteen years old, 6'1" and one hundred and fifty pounds. Are you an athlete?" _

_Blinking back at the ceiling, he stopped singing as he peered up at the cop who was standing over him. The guy was tall, built wide, and his hair was shaggy and he needed a shave. "It's Bobby, and no…not anymore."_

"_What'd you play? Basketball? You've got the built for it. Yeah, I played-"_

"_Is my friend okay?" he asked, interrupting the cop. He didn't care if the guy played or not._

"_Your friend, Waylon Jones, was arrested for aiding and abetting two runaway teenagers, as well as possession. He's in a lot of trouble, Bobby. How do you know him? He's a lot older than you." When he didn't answer, he told him, "We still can't get a hold of your parents."_

"_You're lying." He turned his eyes to the cops and he saw the hesitation. "You got a hold of both of them, but my father, he probably told you to keep me in here and he was too busy, right? And my mother, she ranted and raved, yelling about how I have problems with authority and then she also told you to keep me in here. Or worse." Looking back toward the ceiling, he didn't attempt to get up or move._

_The cop went around the bench and unlocked the handcuff from his hand and then the bench. "Get up, we're going to my office." When he didn't move, the cop grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. "I said to get up."_

_He pushed the cop off him once on his feet and felt the anger rush through him as his fist clenched at his side. "Don't touch me."_

"_What're you going to do, huh, tough guy? Hit a cop."_

_He felt the urge to throw his fist, but instead of doing it, he stepped back. _

"_At least you got some sense left in that head of yours. C'mon, we're going to my office and you're going to tell me why I shouldn't do what your parents tell me and have you locked up for the weekend."_

_Once the cop slammed the door shut, the cop ordered him, "Sit down."_

_Feeling the room spin was enough to get him to do as the cop asked. Going over to the desk, he eyed the chair before looking over the desk and then around the room. "Where's Jackie? I didn't see her out there."_

"_Her father came and got her."_

_At that, he turned and stared hard at the cop. "You let her go with her father? He's…he hit her! Call her Aunt, she can stay there."_

_The cop didn't move to pick up the phone as he looked at him. "If we suspected-"_

"_You fucking cop; you can't admit when you're wrong can you? If she doesn't turn up dead then you don't fucking care if her father's been hitting her." Looking at the nameplate on the desk he read the name of the cop. Detective Keith Dowd._

"_I'm not locking up a father for disciplining his child."_

"_That's not discipline," he strongly told Dowd as he continued to glare at him. Looking away from the detective, he pulled the chair out before collapsing into it. Propping his feet up on the desk, he slid down in the chair and stared up at the ceiling as he closed his eyes._

_There was silence in the office for a long moment, and then, suddenly he heard Dowd pick up the phone. He made a phone call to someone and told them to send a police car to Jackie's home and then to take her to her Aunt's._

"_Satisfied."_

_He peered over at the detective but didn't say anything. The guy only did it to appease him, to try and gain some form of trust back. Dowd never had his trust to begin with._

_Dowd went to his chair and sat down; leaning back in it, he looked him over. "Bobby, I need to know if you want to go home or not."_

"_I don't know."_

"_You don't know if you want to go home?" When he didn't answer, he told him, "I saw the apartment. Was that your room, the one that was torn up?"_

_It was still that way? His mother didn't even attempt to clean it up? He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and took one out._

"_You're not old enough to smoke."_

"_Arrest me," he told him as he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. The first drag always seemed to ease the tension that stiffened his muscles and clenched his chest._

"_Can I have one?"_

_Looking over at the cop, he took one out and tossed it to him. "Need a light?"_

"_Sure, kid. Thanks."_

_After he lit the cigarette, he put the lighter back in his jacket and leaned back in the chair. Rubbing at his eyes, he waited and dreaded the wait. He wanted to leave, to either go home or go to a detention hall just so he could go to sleep; he was so tired._

"_Were you the one that did that to your room?" Dowd asked as he took a drag off the cigarette._

_Glancing at the detective, he shook his head. "It was my stuff, why would I do that?"_

"_Then your mom."_

_Even though he was still pissed off at his mother, he felt he had to defend her like always. "Don't talk about my mother," he sternly told the detective as he glared over at him. _

"_When did she do it? Last week?"_

"_Christmas day," he mumbled as he took another puff off the smoke. Blowing the smoke out, he watch it was it swirled around his head. "She's ill, it wasn't her fault."_

_Dowd nodded a little as he kept his cool. "I understand. She's not right in the head. She does weird things, things that confuse you, even scare you."_

"_Yeah, well…a-as, uh, as Norman Bates said in Psycho, 'we all go a little mad sometimes.'"_

"_That we do, but her madness….Is that why you ran away?" _

_He pushed up out of the chair and paced the floor as he took in all the certificates and photos and flyers on the walls as well as the books on the shelves. He worked on the cigarette to try and calm his urge to hit the cop. It wasn't that he was afraid or scared, he was just tired of it. Tired of the confusion and the feelings of insecurity, of feeling unsafe and exposed, and of not having any control in his life._

_Spotting a picture frame on the file cabinet next to the desk, he picked it up and looked at it. Dowd was in it and standing next to him was a little girl. The picture looked to be a few years old. "Who's this?"_

"_My daughter."_

_He glanced over at the cop before asking, "Where does she live?"_

"_In Jersey, with her mother."_

_Putting the picture back down he told him, "Why am I not surprised. That your way of trying to get Father of the Year award?"_

_Dowd responded by leaning back in the chair. "You better watch it, kid. You don't even know me, yet you think you have the right to attack me as a father?"_

_He pointed to the picture as he told him, "That picture is at least five years old. You still have a tan line from where your wedding ring used to be on your left hand in the picture. In that certificate on the wall, it says that you joined the NYPD in '71, five years ago. It was just after your divorce, right? Your wife left you and you came here, or, you came here and your wife left you…Was that the last time you saw your daughter?"_

_Dowd only stared hard at him but he had his tells. The man was not only shocked, but he looked hardened with hearing that. He had been accurate in his reasoning. "So, tell me, right now how'd you feel about going home? What're you thinking?" _

_Sitting back down in the chair, he leaned back and started laughing. "You don't give an inch for conversation, do you? It's question after question." Tapping the cigarette in the ashtray, he leaned forward on the desk as he told him, "Okay, I'll play along. Nobody cares what I'm thinking or feeling. Do you know why? Because…no one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes…" he started singing and the detective looked like he was ready to put his fist down his throat for it. "No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies-"_

"_Bobby-"_

"_But my dreeeaams they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be-"_

"_Do you think this will get you the attention you've been looking for? You think by getting into trouble, people will start taking an interest?"_

"_No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings, like I do, and I blame you. No one bites back his heart of mere anger, none of my pain and woe can show through, but my-" He was suddenly yanked out of the chair and tossed against the wall._

"_I'm asking you a question," Dowd nearly yelled at him as he trapped him against the wall. "Now I see why your parents don't like you. You're a pain in the ass and you don't listen."_

"_I don't listen? I don't…They don't listen!" he snapped. "They don't even fucking see me! My father doesn't want to and my mother's too fucking busy seeing and hearing things that aren't even real to see me. Yeah, I don't listen. That's all I've been doing is listening to what my parents tell me. That's how I know that they don't give a damn. I don't fucking listen, at least I see the truth. At least I'm not ignoring the truth like they are."_

"_You see the truth don't you? What'd you see here, huh? What'd you think is going to happen to you if you keep this up?"_

_He pushed himself off the wall as he stepped up to the detective as he tried not to show that he was deeply intimidated by the man. "You want to know what I see? I see a has-been," he angrily, and spitefully, berated the cop. "You're wearing a suit you probably bought for five dollars at the Salvation Army, your hair's a mess, you haven't shaved in a week. You have no one to go home to, no one to impress anymore because your wife left you. I see a cop that's one complaint or outburst away from getting the boot. You used to be a narc, right? Yeah, I see that because you're working in the juvenile division but you've got books and weekly quarterly newsletters on drug perihelia and gang activity all over your office. You're a fucking joke. That's what I see." Moving away from the stunned cop, he went back to the chair and sat down heavily. Eyeing the desk, he put the cigarette back in his mouth as he waited for the cop to arrest him and take him into custody._

_To his surprise, Dowd didn't do anything to him. He went back to his desk and sat down while telling him, "You've missed almost an entire month of school, but this is nothing new. Your school attendance has been horrible since you were eleven. Last school year you missed a grand total of sixty-three days, and since September you've missed forty. It's January, and three more weeks of school missed. Yet, you seem to be able to pass all your classes. You haven't gotten anything lower than a D+, and that was in gym class which is entirely based on attendance. The bad news is that your student record reads like a rap sheet. You've been suspended for numerous reasons including smoking, fighting…"_

"_I don't get you," he said as he leaned on the desk and eyed the cop. "I told you off, I took shots at you as a cop, as a father, yet…You're just taking it."_

_Dowd looked up at him from looking at the file in his hand. "Bobby, you can badmouth me all day if you want, I'm not taking the bait. I know who I am, I know what I think and why I do and have done the things I've done, and no kid is going to provoke me into forgetting that. Got it?"_

_Nodding a little, he smiled a little as he sat back in the chair. "Yeah, I got it. They took your balls when they put you here, is that it?"_

_Dowd slammed the file down as he leaned on the desk and stared right into his eyes. "You got some nerve. You know, you could be right. Maybe I envy you, going through life with no one to answer to, no thought about the consequences of your actions or to anyone else. Yeah, a tough guy who gets into fights at school over some kids taking shots at your mother."_

"_I told you not to talk about my mother," he warned the cop._

"_I'm not talking about her, I'm talking about you. It's all right here, in your file. All your fights have been over someone talking about your mom, and you losing it. Did you expect me to act the same way over you telling me that I'm not a good father, that I'm not worth a damn at my job?"_

_Giving no response, and not having one, he sat back and eyed the floor. He was feeling like an asshole._

_Dowd reopened the file and read it over before he told him, "You have talked back and defied everyone of your teachers, even the principal who you told off on several occasions and then accused of plotting against you along with all your teachers. I've even read the twenty page paper you wrote about how the school has a conspiracy theory against you. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"_

"_Yeah, they don't know anything." Looking up at the cop, he told him, "You know how I pass all my classes? I ignore my teachers, that's how. I've read not only the school books but every other book that has to do with those subjects. I had a English teacher tell me that I only passed the Shakespeare test because I cheated. You know what I told him? I recited verbatim Act 1 Scene 1 of every single play he had assigned for that year. I would have recited more but I didn't have the time because all my other teachers thought I was cheating too. I blew them all out of the water with what I know. Now they don't accuse me of that shit and they leave me alone. And your damn right I wrote that paper about them, they deserved it. I don't regret doing it either because it got me an A; my English teacher, despite her dislike of me, thought it was hilarious and well-written."_

"_You keep insisting that people don't like you, that your teachers are against you. I think that they have good reason to suspect cheating when you hardly go to school and still pass."_

"_I'm not just making this shit up, it's true. They don't like me. They never liked me because I'm not like Frank."_

"_Who's Frank?"_

"_My older brother. He was perfect in school, never got in trouble, got good grades, constantly an honor student, captain of the basketball team. They all expected me to be just like him, and when I wasn't, they started to plot against me. I had a teacher make me sit out in the hallway for the whole class, another one made me stand in the coat closet because I was being "disruptive"."_

"_So, your brother is the good kid and you're the bad. Why'd you think Frank is doing so much better than you are?"_

"_Because my father won't ease up on Frank. He doesn't know how to lighten up, he's afraid of getting in trouble, afraid of disappointing our father. Frank, he has all these expectations on him to be the one in the family to go places. He's fucking amazing, and everyone loves him. Me. Where my father can't give Frank any slack, he lets me do whatever I want. He doesn't care what I do or what happens to me. I have a good time when I want to have a good time, I know no limits. I have no limits. Frank's constantly hitting his because our father is always in his way, telling him what to do and when to do it. You know, I bet when our father stops being so hard on Frank, Frank's gonna self-destruct. He's not going to know what to do, or how to take care of himself. I'm self-reliant, I know how to do everything myself. I cook, clean, work, pay bills, I can fix a car, and most importantly, I think for myself. I make my own decisions."_

"_Like running away from home? Bobby, do you realize how misguided you really are? That with thinking that you live on your own terms and in your own world and it doesn't matter what other people think or say or feel toward you or about you, that you're causing yourself all these problems. You need to learn some humility, and respect. You don't respect anyone. Not even yourself."_

"_Did you think that was supposed to hurt me, or make me thank you for pointing that out? Tell you what, Keith, I'll respect you if you prove to me you deserve it. How about that?" he threw back at the cop._

"_There are consequences in life, Bobby. For you, there are more out there than for someone who comes from a better home. You have so many things working against you, but you're very bright, and quick. And you're very much aware of your surroundings, attention to detail is astounding, even when you're drunk, and you have a excellent memory…You're fifteen, right? Have you thought about graduating, what you're going to do when you're able to go off on your own?"_

"_It doesn't matter," he said as he rubbed at his head as it started to pound. "I'm not the golden boy. Frank, he's the one; the college athlete and basketball star that my family loves and appreciates. I'm just an after thought. I was gone for over a month and no one cared except for my school." The truth of that really hurt, it stung. "And the only reason they cared was because it was the law. So wh-why should I go? Why should I even be here? I'm the-the, uh, the fucking reason why my mother's always stressing out and losing it. I'm too much of a problem, a trouble maker. I do nothing except cause my family grief, so, yeah, I took off. Maybe now she'll be okay. Maybe now, my father would come back home. I left because I'm a burden to them, it had nothing to do with fear. I was playing the odds."_

_Dowd didn't scold him for his outburst or confirm what he had said like he thought he would, instead, he simply asked, "Who tells you that?"_

"_Everyone. Hey, I got it. You know what's going to happen to me? I'm gonna get drafted and end up in some POW camp in Vietnam. Fucking Deer Hunter shit. That's my future."_

"_The war's been over for four years, Bobby."_

"_Not for me. Go to my house for a day, there's a war zone."_

_Neither of them spoke for a long moment. He put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk and took out another one and stuck it in his mouth but he didn't light it. He just needed to feel it._

"_You're not in serious trouble yet, but you're heading down that road if you don't stop yourself now. You're only a kid. I have a file here," Dowd said as he took a folder off his desk. "In it is a report on you two years ago. You were accommodated for trying to save a dying girl, Carla Adams. You remember that? Remember the boy you were then? What happened to him?"_

_He stared at the folder before glaring hard at the detective. Carla Adam; he thought about her every damn day. Some days he wished that the boy who killed her would have killed him, save him the suffering. "Let me tell you something, if I walk outta here and saw someone in trouble, I'll try to help. That hasn't changed. I'm just older, and everything's exactly the same. There's the tragedy." _

"_You think your life is a tragedy?"_

_He started laughing. "Oh, look at this cop here, Mister Obvious. Isn't that what I just said?"_

"_You can change that, you know? You have the ability to do that."_

"_I'm not interested in change, I'm interested in…stability. I just, I want something to stay the same. I wa-want…I want normalcy. I want to, uh, to be able to rely on someone other than myself. Is that too much to ask for, to want? To want reliance? To feel secure and-and, and safe?"_

_Dowd leaned on the desk so he could get closer to him. "No, that's not too much to ask for or to want. Most kids I talk to, those who've come from a bad home like you, they seem to find the security they want in something they can hope for. Like God or something."_

_That wasn't what he wanted or needed to hear. "You know something about God, detective, if there is a God, he's a-a, an all-knowing, all-loving, sadistic son-of-a-bitch."_

_Dowd didn't seem surprised by that coming from him. "You hate God?"_

"_You're damn right I do. If He's real, then he brought me here, into a world that doesn't love me. Into a house that's full of…anger, delusions, and indifference, not love."_

"_Do you hate your parents?"_

_He breathed out as he glared at the man. "I'm done talking."_

"_Bobby, before I let you go home, I have to know if you hate your mother. If you're going to be a danger to her…"_

"_Hate my mother? I'll never hurt my mother. She's…her illness is, it-it's consuming her, making her unrecognizable to me as even being a human being. She's not real anymore. She's a-a, uh, a monster that used to be my mother but…but, I don't hate her for it."_

"_And that's why you took off? You can't stay living with that monster?"_

_He suddenly realized that he had lost it; that he had lost his ability to control himself and he had said too much to the cop. "I want to leave. I-I, I can't be here. I want, I need to go." Seeing the door, he started for it. The door wouldn't open as he pulled on it. "What is this? Is it locked? Are you trying to keep me in here?"_

"_Bobby, I only have two options for you. Now, I know you want to go, but you're intoxicated."_

"_Let me out of here! Get over here and unlock it!"_

"_Bobby, listen to me," Dowd ordered as he got up from the desk and circled around it. Sitting on the edge of the desk, the told him, "I can either release you into the custody of a parent or relatives, or you can stay in juvenile detention. If you stay, then we can look into your home life and if a Judge rules that it is unstable and a danger to you, then you can be taken out of your home."_

"_And wha-what, be put in foster care? Become an orphan, a ward of the state? Fuck that. I'll rather take my chances in that war zone with my mother than in your care. Take me home," he demanded as he stalked over to the detective, "now."_

"_Bobby…"_

"_I said take me home," he snapped in demand._

_Dowd leaned back on the desk and eyed him for a long moment. "I think you're making a mistake."_

"_Like I care what you think."_

"_If you go home, you could get into some serious trouble. Do you have any relatives?"_

_He gritted his teeth at being ignored again, and with the run around the cop was giving him. He was used to taking off, to doing what he wanted, and this guy was keeping him from doing what he wanted and that was to get the hell out of that building. To appease the cop, and hopefully to get him to take him home, he lied as he answered, "No, no relatives."_

"_Not a single Aunt or Uncle, cousin?"_

"_Would you stop with the questions!" He had had enough; if Dowd didn't take him home, he was going to hit him and then he would be in serious trouble. "I'm not talking to you anymore. Just…get me out of here already. Take me wherever you want to take me just get me out of this room."_

_Giving in, Dowd got up and showed him out of the office and then out of the police department as he drove him back to the apartment and the woman he had tried to free himself from nearly a month before. Once he was at the apartment, he stood outside his front door, unwilling to open it and go in. He hated going home because he was afraid of what would happen to him once he was trapped inside it with his mother. Turning the doorknob, he pushed the door open, knowing it would be unlocked, and stepped in. The sight that awaited him didn't surprise him like it would most people. He was used to it._

_The house was in complete disarray and it hadn't been cleaned in what looked like a month, not since he left. Dishes were piled in the kitchen and most of the pots and pans were burnt from when his mother went to cook but got caught up in her own head to notice that the food was burning. He was more surprised that the apartment building hadn't been buried down. Hearing her voice, he headed further into the apartment. She was reciting from the Bible again, spouting off verses that he knew by heart. _

_She was standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror and she was naked from head to toe. Quickly turning away, he went into her bedroom and among the piles of clothes, both dirty and clean, he found the bathrobe. _

"_Bobby!" she suddenly announced as he entered the bathroom. "You have to see this," she told him as she held up the book. "I'm so close to understanding Jesus, I'm becoming him! Look!"_

_He ignored her as he wrapped the bathrobe around her small thin frame. She used to be so healthy, he had seen pictures of it. But now with her constant smoking, drinking, and barely eating, she was very frail and weak. When he was younger he used to be so intimidated by her; she was huge in comparison to him. Now she only frightened him by her unpredictability, by her delusions, and her sudden anger and violence. _

"_No, you can't cover me! I have to be in-in the purest form for this to work," she shrieked as she tried to take the robe off._

_He didn't let her as he held on tightly around her body with the robe. Once she realized he wasn't going to let go, she seemed to deflate and let him hold her while she held the book up to the mirror so he could see the words in the reflection. He sighed heavily, feeling his heart twist and die all over again, as he rested his head on her shoulder. "I'm sorry,' he tried to apologize to her but she wasn't listening._

"_God, he told me Bobby to read it through the mirror like this. And-and-and I would understand, I would see the real words. It was written backwards. You see it!"_

_Feeling the tears sting his eyes, he held them back as he trembled against her back as he held onto her tighter. "Mom, I said I'm sorry."_

"_Sorry. What're you apologizing for? Your mother's Jesus!"_

"_It's only in your head!" he suddenly snapped. "You're not Jesus!"_

_She turned and smacked him hard right across the face. "No, you're a liar, Bobby. You have no faith. You're working for them, the demons, the devil to say such lies! It's all in your head! You're the one's that-that's out of his mind."_

_Letting her leave the bathroom as she took of the robe as she walked out, he stayed as he closed the door and locked it before leaning against it. Burying his aching head in his trembling hands, he slid down to the floor. Pulling his legs up to his chest, he felt himself break down before he numbed all the pain by escaping into his head once again. He stayed sitting on the bathroom floor, completely lost in his mind and disconnected from the woman that was on the other side of the door, for hours._

Pushing the painful memories of his childhood aside, he finally got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He could hear the TV going in the living room and knew that Elliot was there and had most likely slept out on the couch. After he shaved and then showered and got himself dressed, he went out into the living room and saw Elliot lying on the mattress of the fold out couch playing a video game.

"Did you find anything?"

Elliot looked over at him as he asked, "What?"

"I read your note, you said you were looking for an apartment."

"Oh, yeah," Elliot told him as he went back to playing the game. "I found some good ones. I haven't made a decision on which one yet, but I'll probably be moving out by the end of next week. I wanna wait until after Christmas to do it."

Bobby watched him for a moment as he accepted that his friend was going to be moving out soon. Even though he was a little uncomfortable from the start with Elliot staying there, he was going to miss the company. "Just, uh, let me know and I'll help."

Elliot glanced over his shoulder again at him and nodded. "Okay, thanks. Wanna play?"

"Yeah, sure," he said with a shrug before he went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and some food.

Hours later, they were still playing but Bobby was now on the couch with Elliot sitting in the recliner. He hadn't planned on doing anything that day except for visiting his mother, which was an all day event anyway, so he didn't mind wasting some time having fun with his friend. Playing the games were consuming, but it didn't help to ease the constant thinking of his brain. He couldn't get yesterday out of his head. The time he had spent with Alex and her family, and their acceptance of him had been a welcomed change.

"I think I'm ready." Not looking over at Elliot, Bobby didn't know what his friend was thinking, but he saw that his soldier on the video game stopped running.

"Ready for what?" Elliot asked as his soldier started running again, trying to find a good spot to ambush his soldier that was coming up fast behind him.

Bobby continued to stare at the television as he focused on the video game they were playing. As he moved his soldier around the destroyed building, trying to track down Elliot's player to kill him, he was trying to remember a time when he had told someone that he loved them. It was the furthest memory he had of being a child, he was ten or eleven…he wasn't sure of the age. It was his father he told, as he watched him walk out the door with his suitcase in his hand for the last time. He had yelled it but, of course, it had fallen on indifferent ears. His father didn't care.

"Bobby?"

He blinked back from searching his memory banks as he watched his soldier jump up on a pile of rumble and searched the area through the sight of the rifle. "Uh, I think I'm ready to…to, um, to be with Alex for the rest of my life."

Elliot turned to look at him and Bobby glanced over before going back to focusing on the game. "Like marriage?"

"No, not like marriage. Just, telling her that I don't want any other woman besides her ever again. She's the only one. I think I'm even ready to change, I mean, really change for her."

"Change how?

"I don't know. I can tell her, um…I can tell her what I've been really feeling, deep inside, you know. She'll like that."

"Yeah, she would. Women do like to hear that occasionally."

He was quiet for a long moment as Elliot's player disappeared from his sight. "I was trying to remember the last time I told someone that I loved them, and…and the last time I think I was a little boy."

"No one since then, not even your parents?" When he still didn't answer, Elliot sighed heavily. "That's messed up. Maybe you should chalk up your pride and go get some help."

Bobby didn't hesitate with nodding in agreement. He did need help; it was just the admitting part that he was having problems with. He thought about calling Declan, just to talk things out with him. The thought of seeing a shrink was out of the question. Dr. Roberts was the only one that got close to figuring out how to approach him, but the last he heard the psychiatrist was taking a sabbatical to be with his wife who had fallen ill. "I'm, uh…I'm afraid of what I might say to her if I…if I'm completely open with her. What'd you think? What should I say to her?"

Elliot paused the game again, causing Bobby to groan in frustration. Turning to look at him, Elliot told him, "What I think doesn't matter. Bobby, I'm afraid of what you might say every time you open your mouth; it's impossible to know what's going on in that head of yours. And I'm not going to tell you want to say to Juliet. That's something you have to figure out for yourself."

"Well, how do I tell her that I love her? How do I convey it without…without screwing it up? How'd you tell your wife?"

Elliot really looked at him weird now. "I opened my mouth and the words came out."

Bobby looked away as he pressed play. Elliot wasn't helping. They played for a little while longer; Elliot was sending an array of bullets toward him as he rushed from one cover to another, trying to get closer and to an angle that would serve his advantage instead of getting him killed. Finding a spot behind a wall and in an angle to Elliot's position, he aimed his rifle and fired off three shots. One impacted the wall behind Elliot's player, another the ceiling, but the third was on target. It ricochet off the corner and hit Elliot's soldier in the shoulder.

"Asshole," Elliot told him, causing him to laugh as he watched the soldier try to change positions to get a good angle on his player.

As he did, Bobby took aim and caught Elliot's soldier in the leg, sending him to the floor before waiting. He had to get up, and when he did he would have his kill shot.

"You can start by telling her that you do love her and mean it. Or, if you're not there yet, then you can tell it to someone who's important in your life. Someone you know that you love," Elliot suddenly told him and he did something completely unexpected. He rolled his soldier off the ledge of the upper floor and sent him falling to the ground. The fall hurt his guy, but it didn't kill him, and from the angle he was in, Bobby lost his advantage point.

"Damn it," he muttered as he kept his player low as he rounded the wall he had hidden behind. Searching the floor through the scope of the rifle, he approached the area Elliot's soldier had fallen. Looking up at the top half of the screen he watched as Elliot's player drew his gun and was ready to end this game through a game of who could shoot the other guy first. "Like my mother?" Bobby asked as he put his player down in the prone position and waited. Someone had to make a move and he was going to force it to be Elliot.

"Yes, like your mother. The next time you see or talk to her, tell her how you feel."

"What's your mother like?"

With that question, Elliot didn't answer. Instead, he told him, "I think we need to stop this conversation before it goes any further."

"Why?"

"Because you're venturing over a boundary that no man wants to venture over, especially with another man while playing a video game."

Bobby glanced over at Elliot and pressed pause on the game. "Better?"

Elliot glared at him and bit out, "No. We're not talking about this anymore."

"What was your mother like?" he asked again.

Elliot pressed play and did another unexpected move, his player stood up. Bobby instantly took the shot, blowing the soldiers head off and killing him. "Good game, you finally beat me," he told him before he suddenly got up, tossed the controller down, and left the room.

Bobby watched as Elliot disappeared into the kitchen. He hadn't expected that reaction and it sparked his ever thriving curiosity, but it had to wait. Looking at the clock, he realized that it was time to leave if he wanted to get up to Carmel Ridge before his mother got too tired for his visit.

* * *

Bobby looked away from the clock and at his mother who was getting tired as she climbed into the bed and laid down. "I guess I'll go now." It was getting late in the day and he had a two hour drive ahead of him back to the city. It would be eight or nine before he got home.

Frances didn't give him a response as she took special attention in smoothing out her sheets and blanket.

Bobby watched her as he debated whether or not to do what Elliot had suggested he do and tell his mother that he loved her.

Frances looked up at him like she was expecting him gone by now. "What is it? You look like you've got something to say."

Bobby's lips twitched into a small smile at her observation. "I do. I, uh…well-"

"Could you it hurry up, I'm tired."

He suddenly felt the need to tell her slip away at her impatience with him. However, he needed to do this. He had to know what her response would be. Bobby took a breath as he stood. Leaning over his mother, he gave her a quick kiss on her forehead as he rushed out, "Love you, mom, see you next Sunday." He was halfway to the door when he heard her tentative voice.

"What did you say?"

Bobby stopped and closed his eyes. He recognized that tension in her voice and it spiked his defenses as he turned around to face her. "I-I said, that I, um, I-I, love, you."

Frances eyed him for a long moment before uttering a short, "Oh. That's what I thought you said." She looked down at the blanket as she fidgeted with it.

Bobby didn't know what to do, if he should go ahead and leave or if he should… "What'd, uh…" he started to ask the question as he moved back over to the chair next to the bed and sat down. Studying his mother, he continued, "What do you, um, think, about me saying that?"

Frances was silent as she continued to drive her finger into the blanket before twisting it around in her hand.

His throat was getting tight at not receiving an answer. He had just told his mother for the first time in who knew how long that he loved her and she couldn't even answer him. "Mom-"

"Please, Bobby, do you have to do this now? I said I'm tired," her irritated voice cut through the tension that had surround him, piercing his shattering heart.

"D-do you…love me?" Bobby suddenly asked; his voice was tight, strained as he was in desperate need to know the answer. He was usually able to control his emotions around her, to not excite her and stress her into a delusion. At the moment, he was losing his control.

Frances hands were suddenly frantic as she annoying and angrily told him, "For heaven's sake, Bobby, you sound like a child."

Bobby felt his own frustration at her avoidance and knew that this must have been what Alex was feeling toward him. It was nearly killing him not hearing the words coming back to him that he had told her. His body was anxiously trying to get him out of that room, but he couldn't leave until he got more than that out of her. As he shifted around in the chair, he nearly yelled back, "Why can't you give me an answer?"

"Answer you! Answer you what? That-that you're always doing this to me. Always questioning and needing to know things that-that-that aren't important."

"Not important? It is important. It's important to know that you're loved, especially by your parents."

"Than it should be obvious," her suddenly calm, apathetic, voice told him. "I'm your mother. That's all you need to know."

Bobby covered his face with his hands that nearly trembled with the same shame and grief he'd been experiencing for most of his life. The same fears and insecurities were consuming him at her bitter anger and resentment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," he found himself apologizing and it hurt.

Telling someone that you loved them shouldn't have been that hard. It shouldn't be accompanied with feelings of guilt and shame. It shouldn't have to come with an apology.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying."

"You're pouting, and sulking…It's crying. You're acting like a child…I can just hear your father now."

Yeah, and so could he. He could hear the words 'pathetic' and 'stop crying, be a man' being yelled in his ear by his father's deep baritone, authoritative voice. Bobby dropped his hands but kept his eyes on the floor as his father's scrutinizing words slowly faded from his memory.

"Fine! I love you. There, are you happy?" her questioning voice was angry, bitter, and held only resentment.

There was no real emotion of love coming from her. No actual joy or pride. The affect was all wrong. It was nearly sarcastic. And it ripped his heart out of his chest.

He covered his head as the guilt and disgust at getting her to say that filled him. She only said it to appease him and to get him out of the room and off her back. And hearing the words 'I love you' filled with so much disdain was too much for him to bear. He was hating himself for even telling her how he felt.

It had been a bad idea. The worst, and now he was paying for it.

Getting up, he quickly gave her an apologetic kiss on her forehead. Resting his head on hers, Bobby told her again, "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'll go now. Okay."

"You'll be here, again won't you? Next Sunday?" she softly asked as a sense of fear crept into her voice. "You're not going to forget about me again are you?"

"No, I'll be here."

"Try to bring Frank along with you if he's not too busy with his work."

"I'll try, mom," he told her, knowing it was a lie as he said it.

She always went back to asking about Frank whenever he upset her. Like if she talked about Frank or saw him then she would be better, feel better. Bobby could never do that for her. He was never the one that could comfort her or make things right even though he was always the one who showed up to try to do just that. She still called him the prodigal son after all these years. She still thought of Frank as being the one that pleased the family, even their dead father, with his "work", while he was still the son that left, went out on his own, and was lost.

The lost son; yeah, that was definitely him all right. Unlike the prodigal son in the bible, he wasn't accepted back by his father, or his mother, when he returned home. Instead he was still ignored, still lost and abandoned, and still searching for the acceptance that he never received from any of them. Even now, at forty-three years old, he still searched and yearned for a father figure, and he still yearned to have his mother back. His real mother, not the woman she had become because of her illness. He wanted the woman he saw in old photographs that was smiling, laughing as she looked vibrant and alive, loving and beautiful.

Once he left the room, he made it as far as the restrooms before he felt his temper burst forth. The door to the men's room banged off the wall as he stormed through it. Pacing the floor, he tried to ease the anger down as his head throbbed. Turning, he caught his reflection in the mirrors above the sinks and he lost it. His fist slammed into the wall, and then the stall door, making it swing and hit hard against the stall wall before swinging back for him to hit again, and again.

He finally stopped as he stumbled back against the sinks and buried his face into his pulsing hands. The pain he felt in his hand distracted him from the pain that had gripped his heart and tore it out of his chest.

It took him a while, but once he had regained his control, he washed his quivering hands that had small cuts on the knuckles and then left the restroom. Hurrying down the hall and out of the hospital as quickly as he could, he got into his car and sped away from Carmel Ridge.

The anger was still clouding his judgment and his vision, making it hard to concentrate on driving the two hours back to Brooklyn. Pulling off onto the shoulder of the highway, he closed his eyes as he willed the anger away. It was snowing, and the streets were slick, he couldn't drive in the condition he was in and expect to not drift into the oncoming lanes of traffic, or not see a hazard in the road in time to react safely.

His hands pounded on the steering wheel before he pushed the door open and slammed it shut. An empty field was off to his right and a dense wooded area to his left. It was the middle of nowhere. Running his hands through his hair, he paced a path from his car to the field and back a few times as he let the cold air numb him.

His mother. He loved her to death and she couldn't even give him a small amount of that love back. She had to treat it like it was something insignificant. That it was something that could be dismissed by the wave of her fucking hand.

And hadn't he treated it just the same with Alex? Hadn't he pushed her away by not letting himself completely feel and accept what she was telling him when she told him that she loved him?

Wasn't he acting just like his mother?

"You…you son-of-a-bitch…" he muttered to himself as he turned around.

He slumped back against the door and slid to the cold snow on the ground. As he brought his knees up to his chest, he felt the familiar comfort that the position gave him. It was a position that had comforted him as a child and it still had some of the same affect on him now.

All he wanted was to feel some form of safety, security, and comfort. As long as he could remember, he craved human contact; a hug or touch that could center him, that could make him feel comforted, loved, and truly protected. It never came. Not with his own parents who could never give him the love and protection and safety that he desired.

Wrapping his arms around his own legs as he buried his head in between his knees, he once again tried to give all that to himself. He once again hoped that all he needed was his own self to take refuge in, to take comfort in, and to hide in. The feeling that he could no longer feel centered within his own soul scared him. He was no longer enough. He needed more than his own solitude. He needed more than his own self to feel complete.

He needed her.

* * *

The ringing of the phone jarred her awake. She groaned into the pillow as she reached for the cell that was bouncing and beeping on the nightstand. Flipping it open, she answered, "Eames."

"Can I come in?"

Having expected it to be Deakins, Alex was surprised and confused at hearing Bobby's urgent voice in her ear. "What? Bobby, what's going on?"

"Let me in."

That was when she heard the knocking on the door. Alex threw the blanket off as she slipped out of bed. "I swear, if this isn't important I'm knocking you out. It's," she looked at the time displayed on the phone, "Twelve thirty-four! You know I work, Goren," she said that last part as she pulled open the door.

The look on his face shocked her. Bobby's eyes tore into her soul as he was completely vulnerable standing on her doorstep. His walls were gone, his face was sunken and tired and his eyes, they were wet with unshed tears. He looked scared, lost, and totally and completely at her mercy.

"Bobby?" she softly asked as she moved aside to let him in. "What's wrong."

He didn't say anything. Bobby shook his head as he stepped inside and slowly slid his shoes off before taking his coat and hanging it on the hanger.

As she watched him, she felt her heart break for him. His movements were very slow, even, and deliberate, as if he was scared of moving too fast. He had yet to fully look her in the eyes, but she knew he was aware of her movements, that he was very much aware of what she was doing as he slid off his tie and then his jacket. His undressing stopped there as he laid the clothing on the back of the couch as he stood behind it.

Her breathing was quickening as the worry and fear increased in her body. Something was going on. Something had happened. She knew it; it radiated off Bobby and it seeped into her. She was always able to feel him, feel what was stirring deep within him even when he couldn't admit it to his own self because of his stubborn denial.

Wanting to talk to him, and wanting him to talk, she took a deep breath but nothing came out of her mouth. There was nothing she could say, but then she realized that maybe she didn't have to say anything. Not yet.

The fireplace was dark and unused, but he was staring at it like there was a raging fire burning. The fire wasn't burning in her fireplace, but it was burning in his eyes. Moving behind him, she tentatively pressed her hands on his back. His muscles stiffened yet he didn't move. Running her hands up and down his back, she felt him shivering along with the strangled breathing she heard him take in.

Closing her eyes, she leaned into his back, resting her head in-between his shoulder blades as she continued her soothing caresses over his back and neck. Her fingers traced along the back of his neck, along the hairline, and then up into his hair. She heard the rapid beating of his heart as he sighed heavily. His body had felt cold at first, but now it was warming with her heat.

Stepping back, she took his hand as she started to round the couch. Pulling him along with her, she sat on the couch and brought him down next to her. Bobby seemed to be a million miles away as she wrapped his arm around her as she made herself at home against his right side. Running her arm around his waist, she watched as he closed his eyes and breathed out hard and deep.

She found his left hand and pulled it to her, resting it against her chest as she rubbed at it with her fingertips. Bobby leaned his head back on the couch, propped his feet up on the coffee table, which she never objected to, as he kept his eyes closed. The agonizing pain of worry that had been clenching her heart was finally easing as she felt the tension in him fade. His breathing was slowing as the beating of his heart grew steady.

Using her other hand, she ran it up along his chest, over his neck then his jaw that was rough with stubble. Cupping his jaw, she rubbed her thumb over his cheek, under his eye, and then pulled his face down toward hers. She kissed over his chin, his jaw, and then his lips. She felt him breathe out against her as he responded to the kiss. The kiss wasn't to incite, it was to comfort. To tell him it was all okay, that she was there and always would be. That she could keep him safe if he wanted her too.

As she continued to rub her thumb over his cheek and under his left eye, she suddenly felt something wet. Ending the soft, loving kiss on his lips, she opened her eyes and saw that he was peering down at her. His dark eyes were glistering with moisture and the wetness she had felt was a tear that had escaped his struggle to keep them at bay.

Bobby closed his eyes again before telling her softly, "Thank you."

"For what?"

Opening his eyes to her, he simply told her like she should have already known, "For, touching me…loving me."

Alex stared up at him for a long moment as she felt her insides stir, tighten, and warm with that admission. Bobby still kept his guard down. She could see the battle that was happening deep within his being. The love, the fear and pain, the uncertainty and the hope. He was showing it all to her and not caring that she was seeing it. The darkness was still there, as it always would be, but the light was trying to shine through. He was trying hard to stay with her, to stay open, to give her something she had a feeling that he had never given to anyone. He was giving her the window, and the door, to his soul. The deepest and the darkest depths of him where he had buried everything that he never wanted anyone to see.

"I'm sorry. I know that my anger, it hurts. My, indifference hurts, but…I wah-…I want you to know that…that when you touch me, Alex…it's…safe. I feel, connected to another person. I feel like I'm part of the human race when I feel you. Does that make sense?"

Alex had to push back her own tears as she told him, "Yeah, it does. I love you too."

Bobby smiled a little as he continued to stare into her eyes.

"What happened, Bobby?"

He didn't shut down like she expected. The turmoil was evident as the pain creased his eyebrows and twisted his features darker. He was fighting with his emotions, struggling against breaking or controlling his pain and sorrow. "I'm fine," he breathed out in a near tremble.

"No, you're not fine," she told him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulling him down to her, she let him bury his face into her neck as she felt her own heart shatter. She needed a way to pull him out of his despair. She needed a way to get him to see what he was doing to himself. The pain in him was becoming too much for either of them to bear, to forgive. He needed to forgive himself.

"I don't know what to do," he finally told her as he shook against her. The tears weren't falling, but the sorrow broke all the barriers he had up around his emotions. "I don't know how to-to stop myself. To s-stop my anger, my pain….I can't do it."

"Bobby, you told a suspect once that no matter how much abuse is repressed, it always has a way of presenting itself. I don't know if that is what's hurting you, but I do know that what you're doing, have been doing, it's all because of what you are trying to forget. It's presenting itself in your anger, and resentment, with hate and fear. It's consuming you and instead of dealing with it properly, you're trying to fight it and control it, but you can't. It's beating you."

"Because I'm…I'm not strong enough."

Alex breathed out hard as she heard that. He was losing his own faith in his self. He was one of the strongest men she knew; he had survived so much and was now losing his own self, his confidence. The words he had told Maggie Coulter years ago entered her head and she reminded him what he had told her, "Bobby, you're strong. You're very strong. You're strong enough to let someone in to help. Bobby, listen to me. You have to face whatever it is you're not wanting to think about or accept and to talk about it. You can't keep taking it all on yourself."

"It's…Alex, I can't."

"You can. I know it's hard, but you've got to. Whatever it is, its hurting you more being ignored than what it would if you just accept-"

"I told you I can't!"

"What happened today? Tell me, Bobby. What happened?"

Bobby suddenly pushed himself away from her as he bolted up from the couch. He shook his head wildly as he started moving around the room, pacing with his arms wrapped around his chest.

"Okay, fine, you want to push me away again? It's not going to happen this time. I'm over that, and I've decided that no matter how much you push, I'm going to push you right back."

"Why? Why now?" he demanded of her suddenly as he stopped moving. A wall had been thrown back up and she could no longer see what was in his soul.

"Because, Bobby, I know you're going to stop hiding from me now," she told him honestly as she stood to confront him. "I think now you're finally acknowledging that you can be broken, you can be hurt, you can be wrong…and you can make mistakes, and it's okay to do all of that. I can't fault you for that. I can't hold a grudge against you for it either."

Bobby shook his head as he tried to step away from her.

"Stop trying to run away from me. It's okay for you to falter and for me to be witness to them. And, yeah, I was pissed off at you and stubborn myself that I wasn't clearly seeing it that way for a long time, but that's what love does to me. It can cloud my judgment, and my willingness to forgive because I'm so in love with you that I trust you implicitly. I let my guard down around you because I feel like it's okay, you'll never hurt me too deeply and so badly that it'll damage me. What you did, said, that night…it hurt. I wanted to hate you, but I couldn't, and now I finally understand why it happened. I know now that your rage is a pretty scary thing, and it's completely unpredictable. But it's survivable, and despite that, I do honestly and completely still love you."

Alex stood there, holding onto his dress shirt for dear life as she stared into his eyes, trying to get a read on him. He looked confounded, but then a shimmer of defeat registered before resignation overtook as he shut his eyes. She was afraid he was going to shut himself down again. To hide from his emotions and from hers. To ignore the truth in what she was telling him. To continue living in denial.

She stood and waited.

* * *

Opening his eyes, Bobby locked his eyes with hers and it was hard to look away as she looked into him for something. For confirmation? It was hard to keep emotionally connected to her, to force his walls back down so he could _feel_ her words and not just hear them. It was so hard because her words were digging in, touching him too deeply that it hurt. He hadn't thought that she would ever stay with him this long and that she would forgive him the way she had; he couldn't even forgive himself, but he didn't think he had to.

If she was still willing to be with him then it didn't matter. He had never been more grateful for anything than he was for her love. It swelled in him and he found himself opening his mouth. He knew the words that he wanted to say. Instead of those words, he told her with all honestly and hope that she wouldn't hit him, "I hate the way you get under my skin."

She was suddenly quiet as she looked at him in confusion as fear seeped into her understanding eyes that were starting to cloud.

He had to swallow hard as he closed his eyes against the emotion that was creeping up from the buried depths of his soul. Afraid of opening his eyes to see hers, he dropped his head and peered at the floor as the shame and embarrassment heated his neck. "I hate the way you always think that you deserve to know things about me that no one should know. You're never going to know everything you want. I'm too scared to tell you, and, a part of me doesn't want to relive and face everything."

"I understand. I have decided not to ask anymore. You'll tell me what you want and when you want to."

Shifting his eyes up to hers, he nodded a little as he continued, "I don't like it when you push me, even when I know I deserve it because I push you. That makes me a hypocrite, and I don't like that about myself." His chest shook at the shiver that ran down his spine at those words, but instead of stopping, he continued on, "I can't stand the way you think that I should feel comfortable with you and your family, and that I should be more open with you about mine. As for my emotions, and with my soul. I feel…um,…it's a feeling like, rage, when I think how dependent I am on you. I don't like sympathy or pity, even when it's my own. Sometimes I feel too much, and I can't…process it, deal with it, and it can really screw me up. So, I try not to feel anything for too long, especially when I…I find myself empathizing with criminals. I have to let myself, as a profiler, empathize with the worst kinds of people and it scares me that I relate to them so well…It makes me not trust in my own feelings. My own thoughts. Like, maybe, I'm not too far from being like that myself. So, when I get too emotional, it, it scares me. I felt rage with you that night, and I couldn't stop myself. I didn't even try. What if next time I don't pick up a chair."

"You're not like that, Bobby. You're very moral and you have lines that you'll never cross. You're not naturally violent, you love…"

"So do they. They just respond differently, see the world differently…hate and love differently. And, honestly, so do I. For me, love, Alex…" he trailed off as he thought about what love meant to him. Love always terrified him. He had been abused by love. Destroyed by it. "Love, whether it's feeling it or getting it, it makes me ashamed. I'm embarrassed by it. It makes me feel, vulnerable, weak, and I apologize for it. It can feel wrong, and it hurts. It makes me angry and spiteful, and it's the worst thing that I could ever let myself feel. But, I have no choice but to feel it every single moment I'm around you. Alex, I let my love drive my passions, my obsessions…I never let it drive my heart or my mind. And, I'm so sorry, but…" he took a deep breath before locking eyes with her. If he was going to give her the most painful truth he had in him, he wasn't going to do it while staring at the floor. "Forgive me, but, you can't have it. Not completely. I gave it all to the two people who should have cherished it, nurtured it. Instead, they destroyed it. They played with it, manipulated it, and used it to their own advantage. My love to them was nothing to appreciate, or accept. So, now, I guard it. I push it down and I let it burn with a fury that ignites my inner most wants and needs, but I never give it away. I can't afford to. I can't trust anyone else with it, not even you, but I want to, Alex, I really do." He felt everything in him start to break at that admission.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Clenching his eyes close against the pain of not being able to give her what she desperately and willingly deserved, he felt guilty for even accepting the love that she had given him. Shaking his head, he told her, "You need to know, that's why I told you. This is me, and you need to know." Getting his eyes to open, he looked at her while saying, "Alex, when I'm not with you, I hate that the most. I hate it so much…it's killing me. I would give you a list of all the things I do love about you, but…I'll be standing here all night. It's a long list," he told her, causing her to finally smile, if only a little. "What I can give you is everything else. You have my complete devotion, Alex; the trust I allow you to have…it's the most I've given to anyone, as well as my loyalty and the few good virtues I have, along with all the bad. They're all yours. If…if you want," he finished telling her as he looked shamefully at the floor.

Not being able to see her, he nearly broke as she said through the tears he heard in her voice, "Thank you."

Despite what she told him, he felt the shame in him for even telling her all of that. For telling her of all the things he hated and didn't like about her, about himself. It was pitiful that he had to win her back that way. That he had to resort to gaining her sympathy to gain her love. He didn't know if that was what he was actually doing, or if he was just lying to himself to make himself feel bad for making her cry. He had a way of beating his own self down when he felt the guilt tighten his throat and clench his heart. He had a way of hating himself for everything he did, even if it was something good.

Feeling the anger that always came with the shame, Bobby had to push down the urge to walk away or worse as he wrestled with his body to stay still. Alex must have felt his inner struggle as she grabbed him tighter by the shirt and held on as she pulled herself closer to him. He felt her breathing on his neck and her weight against his chest.

Alex was crying again, and he hated it. Reaching up, he wiped her tears with his thumbs as he kissed her forehead. "Bobby…"

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm fine. That's, um…Anyway, that's what I've been thinking…feeling. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you that…but, I…I-I, uh, I've been told that I have a tendency to not know when to keep my big mouth shut." Bobby shook his head as he sighed in anger as he told her, "I don't like putting my burdens onto you. They're mine to bear, not yours."

She placed her hands onto his face and pulled him down to her. With a hint of warning, and anger, she told him with as much love as she could, "We're together in this. What hurts you also hurts me, and I will always help carry your pain. Always. You understand me, Goren? And it was me who told you that you need to learn to keep your big mouth shut, just not when it comes to this. Not when it comes to talking to me."

Never in his life had he ever heard a woman tell him that she wanted to help carry his pain, his burdens, especially not a woman who claimed that she loved him. It hurt to hear the truth in what she said; he held a lot of pain, and with that pain came anger. Yet, he had never felt so loved, or held so much gratitude for anyone in his life as he did for her just then.

* * *

Bobby advanced on her so quickly she didn't have time to blink or move or say anything before his lips were covering hers and his tongue was driven so deeply into her mouth that her knees nearly buckled. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to deepen the kiss by pulling him down closer and harder to her.

His hands seemed like they were everywhere at once as they touched, groped, and caressed her skin from her face and neck down to her legs. It felt so good that he was causing her entire body to ignite on fire. It was amazing.

Then, just as quickly as he overtook her, he eased back, barely breaking the kiss to give them room to breathe. "Alex, Eames…." He suddenly stopped as he looked down at the floor, like what he was about to say was something he was ashamed of.

Alex felt the confusion of his sudden reluctance as she gripped his shirt tighter and held him still. The way he said her name, it was like she was the only person in the world that was real, solid, and dependable. She realized then that with Bobby there wouldn't be any others, and never had there been anyone else; that besides his mother, there had been no other woman in his life but her.

Lifting his head, Bobby tilted his head to the side as he breathed out deeply, then resting his head onto hers, he quietly told her, "I, uh…I think that-that, uh…that I want to be with you for a very long time."

"And you're ashamed of that?"

"It's this, the dependency, I don't like it."

Alex nodded a little as she tried to understand that. "Hopefully those feelings will go away." She kissed him softly before she pushed hard into him. The rush of love in her heart pounded so loud she was sure that he could hear it. Their tongues tangled and caressed in each others mouths as the happiness filled her.

Pulling back, and making her groan in frustration, he asked her softly, "What if I don't want them to?"

She noticed the fear in his voice and it made a shiver run down her spine. Alex tried to see what he was feeling but it was nearly impossible his eyes were so dark. "Then, I'll try to understand."

Bobby, shaking his head at her, responded by leaning down and kissing her again. The desperation that was in his voice was also in his kiss. There was a hunger that fueled him and it rocked her body hard. She knew that something had happened with him in the few seconds after she stopped talking to when he kissed her again, but at the moment she knew that he wasn't going to talk about it. Plus, her need for him was overwhelming her and all the strength in the world couldn't get her to push him away. She wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. And to finally hear him being completely honest with her, it had sent her over the edge. It wasn't the words she expected to hear, but it was the truth. There was nothing hidden in what he told her, and for him to give her that was a lot. It meant more to her than if he would have told her that he was in love with her, because that she already knew.

She didn't push him away as he ran his frantic hands down her back, to her thighs, and then lifted her off the floor before pressing her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she could feel how hard he was through his black jeans. She wanted to feel more of him as quickly as possible. As he started placing kisses along her neck, she bucked off the wall, grinding hard into him.

His voice was a mere growl against her skin as he rocked her back, pinning her to the wall. The fingers of one hand were running along her lower back and ass, igniting a fire, while the other hand gripped the front of her shorts and pulled them down. The teasing probing of his fingers was near torture. Her own hands shook as she unbuttoned his shirt before reaching down and fumbling with his belt. Once she finally got it undone and the zipper down, she wrapped her hand around him.

Bobby stilled suddenly as his eyes closed. His voice was trembling as he breathed against her lips, "Al-ex," his voice hitched as she started to stroke him, filling his hardness grow thicker in her palm.

"You love me?" she asked, purring against his ear. She smiled as she heard his struggle to speak.

"I do," Bobby opened his eyes and was staring right into hers.

They were so close that she actually saw the black dilation of the desire that filled his eyes. She kissed him deeply before saying, "Then make love to me."

She was off the wall and being carried backwards down the hall as he assaulted her mouth with his tongue and her core with his fingers. What he did in her mouth he also did to her insides. She yanked her tank-top up and off her, tossing it behind her into the room. By the time he pressed down into her on the bed, she was ready to come. He quickly removed her shorts as his hand left her but it was quickly replaced by his greedy mouth that took all of her in as she gasped with the burst of pleasure that sent a wave of electricity throughout her body.

As her heart started to slow, Bobby speed it back up as he crawled to a position on top of her before spreading her legs wider. He had completely undressed without her even realizing it. Her throat locked and she couldn't speak as he slowly filled her. He was gentle yet his urgency to have her was making him shake against her body.

"Faster, Bobby," her voice quivered. "I want…yes!"

Bobby had quickly pulled out before driving back into her, setting an almost reckless pace. It was hard, fast, and shook her deeply. It was exactly what she needed, what he needed, and it was the best she had felt in a long time. She matched him as her own desperation to come again soared through her. The pleasure was building faster than she could keep up with but Bobby was trying his best to not come until she did.

"C'mon, baby, come for me," he pleaded with her as he drove hard into her, making the headboard bang hard into the wall as he did.

"Feels so good, I'm so, close…" she told him before her throat closed as it all crashed into her. She heard her voice cry before she stammering out Bobby's name over and over as her entire body erupted into a white hot flash of pleasure.

She barely felt Bobby come as she was too consumed by her own orgasm to noticed his, but he was breathing heavy and jerking into her with a satisfying groan before he settled on top of her. Her hands ran down his back that was coated with sweat as she tried to sooth the muscles that were pulsing with spasms against her fingertips.

His breath was warm against her neck, sending a sense of comfort down her body that she hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. She had missed him being this close, almost being one with her. Her hands continued to sooth over his body, up into his hair, and over the back of his neck. Her fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck that he always seemed to like as her other hand ran along his shoulder then down his arm.

"You okay?" she gently asked.

He nodded slightly before he started kissing her neck up to her ear. Whispering into her it, he told her, "You are, so wonderful, so beautiful."

Alex's arms tightened around him as he continued to kiss down to her shoulder and then over her chest. He started kissing her all over; stopping at the sensitive spots that made her giggle or tense with pleasure. It wasn't until he started kissing her mouth that he pulled out of her with a moan of loss before rolling onto his back to catch his breath.

She followed him; Alex turned onto her side and rested her head on his chest, over his heart, as her hand started soothing the front of his body. Her hand tingled with his skin and the hair on his chest all the way down to his waist then back over his chest, up his neck, before stopping on his face. Her hand cupped his jaw and turned him toward her as she pushed up to kiss his lips.

Looking into his eyes, she saw the love that had settled in them along with something else she couldn't make out. It was a look that was cause for concern but she didn't want to upset him when it was feeling so good. Again she was reminded of the fact that she knew something had happened tonight. Something that caused him to drive out to her apartment to actually talk.

What could have happened? Yesterday was Sunday and…Alex blinked back as the day hit her. Bobby had visited his mother. Visiting his mother was why he was thinking about the all those things. About his intimacy with her. About himself and why he reacted the way he did to things.

Bobby must have seen something in her eyes because he suddenly turned his head away and looked up at the ceiling. Not wanting to cause another fight, she let it go as she closed her eyes and listened to the beating heart in his chest. She was drifting off to a light sleep when she felt the rumble of his chest as he spoke.

"I don't…Wha-when-when I was…uh, it was my fourteenth birthday, my mom, she, she went missing. It took us a week to find her. She had wandered off during the night and…and, she would do that, you know, just take off when she was in one of her delusions. The police picked her up in Central Park, she was…she was chasing around the pigeons and screaming about how they were reading her mind or something."

He was suddenly quiet for a long moment and Alex thought that he was done. If she wanted to know more she would have to ask, but she didn't. If he wanted her to know more, he would tell her.

"I can't stop thinking about this case I've got. A kid, Terrence, he was killed in a hit-and-run."

Alex looked up at him and asked, "The one Sullivan confessed to?"

Bobby slightly nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, he was only fourteen, just a kid. The more I investigated the crime, talked to his mother, his friends, I…I was finding myself being envious of him. Even though he died at such a young age, he had a better life than I had. I truly believed that he loved his girlfriend. At fourteen I couldn't even fathom the meaning of the word, yet alone how it felt or what to do when I had it. And his mother…She…she's the kind of mother I always wanted but never had. She cared. She loved him, took care of him, talked to him. You know…we all expect only the best from our mothers."

Alex opened her eyes as she turned her head to look at him. He had spoken that so softly that she had barely heard him. "What do you expect from yours?"

He was quiet for a while and she was afraid she had pushed him too far. Not looking away from the ceiling, he answered, "I've gotten used to expecting the worst from everyone. I only anticipate disappointment. It's safe to say that with her, I wasn't disappointed," he explain as he stared up at the ceiling with his arm draped over his forehead. "I told her that-that I loved her. She couldn't tell me the same. I…I thought, I thought it would be okay, that she would understand my need to hear it from her, but…she told me to leave. When I didn't, she…you know, she finally said it just to make me, as she put it, stop acting like a child." Blinking back, he shifted his eyes to her and frowned as he told her, "Every time someone finds out that I take care of my mother, you know what they tell me? They say, uh, they say that it must be because she was such a great, loving mother," he sneeringly told her. "That she must have taken really good care of me."

"Okay, so why do you do it?" she gently asked, going along with his sudden need to talk about his mother, his real relationship with her. This would be the first time. The compassion in her voice was already seeping through.

"At first, it was a sense of responsibility. I'm her son, I had an obligation. I do it now because I want, I want to be connected to her, but it never happens. She keeps slipping further away, like she's being washed out to sea with me swimming my hardest after her. As soon as I get close, she does something that, that pulls me down and under with her. Schizophrenics, they feed off the emotions of others. When you're hurting, they attach themselves to it and it becomes about them. They hurt more than you, so your pain isn't accepted. Or, you hurt and instead of feeling it, they manipulate it. My mother did both. It got to the point where I couldn't show her my true emotions. I had to hide from her, and I still do. I never show her what I'm going through in my life and if I think something is going to excite her, or damage her, then I lie to her. I've never been able to be completely honest; I lie to her more than I tell her the truth. For her to not feed off me, to not let her generate her delusions off my feelings, I have to not express them."

Alex cupped his face with her hands and pulled him to her, letting him rest against her. "And that's why it's hard for you to be the complete opposite with me?"

Bobby nodded against her. "I'm so used to hiding that it's so hard for me to be open. I was taught that being open meant being hurt, it meant having what I was feeling used and manipulated, and it caused…it caused them, both my mother and my father, t-to, to inflict pain on me. My mother, she didn't take care of me, she wasn't a good mother. She was someone I had to hide from, someone I had to fear going home to. I feared going home after school, and a lot of the time, I didn't. I even ran away a couple of times. There were times when I didn't even see her as my mother. She was a monster to me, a thing that looked like my mother but wasn't. The guilt and pain I still carry around for thinking that way…I can't begin to try to explain the magnitude of its weight."

Alex nodded at that, but didn't know what to say to it. She didn't understand. "What is she like now?"

Shaking his head, he said softly, calmly, "She's…manipulative still. She's demanding, and overbearing. But, I'll do anything for her. And, she's so tiny, and thin. I think that if I actually try to hug her, she'll break. I kiss her, sometimes on her forehead, and that's as close as I get. I help her to her bed, but I never get too close. The last time I did she hit me. I never get too close, not with anyone…not even with my own mother. Not until you."

Alex felt the tears in her eyes as she listened to him and now he saw them. She went to wipe them away but his hand on hers stopped her.

"I, um," he cleared his throat before he continued, "I realized that…that what I was feeling toward her, that you…you were feeling t_oward_ _me_. I-I didn't…I didn't realize…"

"It's okay, Bobby, I understand now." She pushed herself up to be looking down at him. Kissing his lips to silence him, Alex got on top of him, sitting on his chest, and took his face in her hands before telling him, "I know you love me, even if you can't say it. You're not like her. I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm sorry for what she did-"

"Don't apologize for her," he snapped. "Don't you ever say you're sorry for what she did to me."

The sudden anger, and pure contempt, that laced his voice and bore from his eyes shook her. It was frightening, and it wasn't like him. Something had changed in him, or at least stirred in him something that was buried deep and maliciously inside the depths of his soul. "Do…" she had to ask this carefully, being more afraid of his answer than his reaction. "Do you hate her?"

Alex knew that Bobby only flinched openly when his mother was brought up. His mother was his one true weakness. However, Frances wasn't a saint, nor a victim, except to and in her own mind.

Bobby covered his eyes with his arm. That was something he rarely did with her. He always held eye contact with her and now he was blocking that connection. Something was going through his head, and his delay in responding was making her more nervous. He was quiet for too long. "I don't hate her, I hate who she has become. I hate the illness," he breathed out as he shook his head, still not looking at her. "But I need her…I don't know what I'll do if…if she wasn't here. It's…I'm…It's crazy, and screwed up how much I need her. I don't even know why."

Her heart was breaking for him and she wanted to get him to stop. It was too painful to not only hear what he was saying but hearing the pain that she knew was breaking his heart. To see him like that, completely vulnerable and nearly on the verge of tears, the sobering reality of his relationship with his mother was unsettling to her. "It's not crazy to want your mother, Bobby?"

Shaking his head, he said, "It's not just that…" he trailed off, leaving it at that. Or she thought until he explained, "I can tell you that I love her, but…I can't tell you the same."

Alex was silent for a moment before asking, "Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know. That's why it's fucked up."

"Bobby, it's not-"

"I just…I don't understand. I don't," he was saying quietly to himself as if she wasn't there. "I've tried…I've tried to be there an-and…listen, to help her and it seems like, it's all for nothing. She, she doesn't…There's no appreciation. No, love…I just…I don't understand. I understand the illness, I get the apathy…I get the-the, uh, the lack of connection…but, it's only with me she does it too. She's not, with Frank, with him, she shows her faith, her love, her concern. Wha-what did I do?"

The one woman in Bobby's life that was supposed to have been trusted, that was supposed to have given him love no matter what, had torn her son apart. She saw now how his mother had committed crimes, horrible crimes, against her own son. His mother had hurt him too deeply, betrayed him too horrifically not only when he was a very vulnerable boy, but even now when he was a very strong man.

Bobby's trust issues were finally making more sense to her as he clung to her; as he pulled her down to him and buried his face into her. She was the only woman he did and could ever trust. She was the only woman that he had ever trusted with most of who he was. It wasn't everything, but it was enough. This was what he was giving her, and had always given her. He gave her not only the good but also the bad that made the man he was. He gave her Robert Goren in all his pure honesty, even when it was brutal.

What could she say to him that would ease a lifetime of pain and shame, guilt and suffering? Nothing but the words she had already spoken to him many, many times. She whispered loving words into his ear as she held him. He shook as the pain in him continued to wreck havoc throughout his body, mind, and soul.

Her tears slipped into his hair as he turned, rolling them onto their sides, as he continued his soft ramblings as he tried to regain control of the uncontrollable. As he tried to reason and come to terms with the apathetic nature of the woman he called his mother. He fell asleep before she did but it didn't ease her need to hold him. She held him tightly and as securely as she could until her own tiredness consumed her.

TBC…

I don't own any rights to Pink Floyd's song _Brain Damage _or The Who's song _Behind Blue Eyes_.


	17. Fragments of his soul scattered all over

**A/N: **A huge thank you to everyone who's still reading and reviewing my story! Your gratitude and patience is much appreciated!

* * *

It was five in the morning but he was refusing to get out of bed. He had woken due to feeling a dull ache in his left arm. It had fallen asleep under the weight of Alex sleeping on top of it. Seeing her sleeping peacefully next to him he wanted to do nothing more than to watch her. The feel of her against him, keeping him warm and safe with her arms around him, was a feeling that he didn't want to break.

Alex Eames was his once again. A small smile pulled at the edges of his lips as he scanned over her peaceful face. Red botches, remnants of her tear-stricken face from just hours before, surrounded her closed eyes. The sight twisted his stomach and the guilt all over again. He had laid a lot on her with the things he had told her. Smoothing his thumb below her left eye, he tried to ease the tenderness away. Truth be told he didn't even notice her emotional break as he was so overtaken by his own emotional state to fully realize what he was doing to her. That had been one of the things he warned her about. Sometimes he couldn't see what was in front of him; what he was doing to another person until he took it too far or until they had enough.

Internally he apologized to her for his un-chastised behavior as he ran his hand up and down her left arm; closing his eyes he shivered at the feel of her skin. _How I missed this woman. _Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. Moving to her neck, he kissed her there as he breathed her in, loving the way her scent shook him, enticed him. She stirred against his body, hummed a moan in her sleep, but didn't wake.

Smiling wider he leaned down and placed a whisper of a kiss on her cheek, then her temple, and below her eye before moving back down to her neck. His hand flowed up her arm and around her shoulder as he let his fingers trail lightly over the soft skin along her vertebra. Being asleep and totally acceptable by him, he easily, and as slowly as possible, eased her onto her back without breaking the contact of her body against his. He heard a soft intake of breath as he rubbed his hand around to her ribs and then up her body.

As he kissed along her neck and collarbone he could feel her heart rate quicken under the palm of his hand. Trying to keep his touches as light and smooth as possible he traced along her breast, her side, and then down to her belly. Trailing his fingers over her stomach, he felt the tight muscles twitch as she stirred under him in her sleep. Chuckling a little, he moved further down, placing open-mouthed kisses over her chest. Not wanting to wake her yet, he gently kissed over her breasts before moving down, lower, to her stomach as his lips replaced the feather light touches of his fingers.

A moan escaped Alex's lips as he dipped his tongue into her bellybutton before running it up along her skin. Taking a glance at her face, he saw that her eyes were still closed but her lips were parted slightly as her face heated. He was driving her crazy in her sleep and he was loving every minute of it. While he kissed over her abdomen, his right hand smoothed down over her hip then along the backside of her thigh to her knee. Running his hand along her left leg, he lifted it up and rested it over his shoulder, and then he shifted his weight and did the same with her right leg. Tucking his shoulders up into the back of her thighs, he breathed deeply against her skin as rested his head on the flatness of her belly.

Closing his eyes he felt himself become completely relaxed. Maybe because it was such an intimate position but for some reason having her legs wrapped around him and holding him down against her, it always left him feeling…_obtained_. He was her possession and despite everything that was fighting, battling within him to maintain his solitary independence, he couldn't help but submerge himself in the pleasurable feeling it caused within his soul. It felt as if he was taking refuge in her and he absolutely loved it. He was hers to have for as long as she wanted.

He laid there for a long time with his eyes closed just listening to her body. Breathing her in he filled his senses with everything that was purely Eames. He indulged in the warmth he felt under him, surrounding him, as he thought about what had transpired between them. Whether it was showing it or feeling it he never liked vulnerability. He had dropped his defenses for her, and in doing so he had divulged a number of his insecurities and weaknesses. She now knew more about him than anyone and that terrified him. Alex could now very easily destroy him if she wanted and he had given her that power over him semi-willingly. It had been a struggle for him, one that he still wasn't sure was the best thing for them, or him, but he had felt like he had no other choice. He had to have her and he had to have her have him.

Yesterday he had realized that he needed her more than he had needed anyone in his life. He was falling apart, and he still was, but he didn't have the means to stop himself from falling. The refuge that he normally took within himself to settle his soul, to mend his heart, and to clarify his mind wasn't enough. And now, after pushing down his walls for her if only for the night, he couldn't help but think that she had broken him. He felt broken. Fragments of his soul, scattered all over…

The touch of her hand against the nape of his neck caused him to jerk as his eyes flew open, breaking his concentration. The panic and momentary fear faded as her fingers soothed over his skin. Closing his eyes against her soft caresses, he felt her hand run up through his hair and then down over his face. As his body trembled against her touch he tightened his hold around her legs, kissing the inside of her left thigh.

"You sure do know how to wake a woman," she breathed out in a deep sultry voice.

Smiling to himself for pleasing her, he turned his head and rested his chin on her stomach while looking up at her. "I've missed you."

"I see," she said while smiling down at him. "Am I comfortable?"

Humming as he buried his face into her stomach, causing her to laugh, he told her, "…sleep on you all day," before nipping at her skin with his teeth. Glancing up, Alex was gazing down at him with so much desire and heat in her eyes it was nearly impossible to turn away. That one look was enough to excite him as he kissed down her stomach to in-between her legs.

As he ran his tongue over her pulsing hot center, he nearly cried out as her hands tightened in his hair. Kissing and licking her everywhere, he felt himself grow harder at the sounds she was making and what he was doing to her. He had been wanting to please her for so long that it was driving his passion deeper and spurred his desire and hunger to make her lose herself in throes of passion.

When she finally raised up against him as her body tensed and then crushed in on itself, he almost joined her in release of pleasure as she screamed out. Not being able to wait until she fully recovered he slid up her body, keeping her legs on his shoulders, until he was able to slide inside her.

Alex's breath hitched as he filled her. Her hands grabbed onto his arms and then his back as her nails dug and scrapped along his skin. The pain intensified his pleasure as he lost all sense of himself. He could only feel her, smell her, taste and hear her. At the moment, she was letting everything out as he brought them both closer and closer to ecstasy. She had never been afraid to voice her desires as she urged him on through her screams and pleas, moans and cries of their love-making. It always made it more exciting and enjoyable for him; he loved a woman who wasn't afraid to wake the neighbors.

He wasn't going to be able to hold back any longer as his eyes clenched shut as he felt his body tense as his orgasm rocked his body, sending waves of pleasure rushing through him. "Oh…God, Alex," his voice strained, crying out his release into her shoulder as he felt her walls collapse around him as she came.

His body wouldn't stop clenching, shaking, as he spilled himself deep into her. It seemed to last forever as he continued to thrust and jerk until he had nothing left. Until his throat shut tight and hard as he drove hard one last time into her before he nearly collapsed on top of her body.

Bobby was still shaking and breathing fast as he kissed over her throat, up to her lips and then kissed her deeply before pulling away. He knew he was getting heavy on top of her so he moved to her side but didn't roll over. Leaving his arm draped over her waist, he pulled her to him as he closed his eyes. His shaking finally stopped but now he was exhausted yet there would be no going back to sleep. It was time for him to get up and go home so he could get ready for work. "You wouldn't happen to have any suits of mine here would you?"

Alex only blinked at him before answering him, "No, you took them all." The way she said that, it sounded like she was disappointed.

Peering into her eyes, he tried to figure out if that was indeed what she was feeling. When he couldn't determine her mood one way or the other, he gave her a slight smile before covering a yawn. He closed his eyes as he mumbled into the pillow, "I need to leave soon if I want to get to work on time."

"You sound out of it. How long did you sleep?"

Bobby groaned as he answered, "…'bout three hours." He felt her hand rubbing along his back, making him jerk as it tingled. "That tickles, and it's not helping." Smiling over at her, he lifted his head and kissed her softly on the lips before telling her, "You left me no choice." As he kissed her again he moved his hand to her side and started tickling her.

"Ah!" Alex screamed and laughed as she squirmed under him. "Don't, Bobby!" She couldn't stop her uncontrollable laughter as she tried to get him to stop by grabbing his hand. "Stop," she playfully ordered.

He stopped as he let her catch her breath before he went to tickle her again. Alex suddenly pushed him over onto his back and held his arms down as she straddled his chest. Her strength always seemed to surprise him. "Eames."

"Goren," Alex said with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she smiled down at him.

"Don't even think about it," he warned as she let go of one hand and moved it behind her.

The day she had discovered that the most sensitive spot to tickle him was the inside of his thigh had been the day she utilized every chance she got at torturing him. She hadn't even done anything yet and he was tensing his body to brace for his reaction.

"Think about what?" she asked innocently before he felt her hand on his thigh.

His reaction was almost violent as he yelp and jerked up as he flipped her over onto her back. It was the only way to stop her. Even though he didn't mind being tickled and having fun, feeling that sensation on that spot on his leg was enough to actually make him think he could die from laughing too hard. He hated it.

Her hands immediately shot up to his sides as she started tickling him again. "Eames!" he screamed out between laughing and trying to catch his breath. Her hands were going everywhere, from one spot to another that she knew would tickle him. Grabbing her wrists, he was finally able to stop her as he held her hands against her bare chest. Still laughing he told her, "I give, I give, okay. You win."

She was laughing too as she playfully pouted, telling him, "You're just saying that because you know you can't beat me."

"Exactly, so why try." After giving her a long, and deep kiss, Bobby let her hands go as he rolled off the bed and got up. He could feel the soreness in his body as he moved around the room, trying to find all his clothing as he told her, "I'm going to shower first then go."

"None of your stuff is here. You'll be smelling like a woman using my body wash."

Bobby started laughing as she said that. "I think you have bar soap somewhere."

Almost an hour later he took the thermos full of coffee from Alex while leaning down to kiss her. "I'll call; and I'm still hoping for that dinner tonight."

Alex gave him a hug as she answered, "Me too. The only case I've got going is the Connelly one, and Deakins is going crazy with us not getting any answers."

Bobby felt the guilt pull and twist inside of him at hearing that. He was closer to knowing who had murdered the Connelly's than she was and he couldn't even tell her. It pained him to know that he had to keep his knowledge from her, that he had to go along with Internal Affairs instead of being the good and honest cop that he was. It was one of the reasons why there was turbulence within his soul. Why he didn't feel safe in it anymore. He had to lie to the one woman, besides his mother, that he loved. "I, uh…I know you'll figure it out. You're very good, and you have my complete confidence."

Alex smiled up at him as she said, "Thanks. It's good to know that I still have yours."

"Hey." Bobby pulled her to him as he told her, "You will always have my confidence because you deserve it. You're one of the best cops I know. I mean that. Yeah, I'm no longer there, no longer your partner, but you have everything it takes to solve this case." He saw the look in her eyes as he told her that. She was more than shocked, but also very grateful. "Has Copeland been saying anything?"

"No," she quickly reassured him. "Copeland believes in me and us as partners; it's not him, or anyone else for that matter except maybe the Brass. You know how they are when things don't move as quickly as they want. Deakins knows that it's my first case back and my first case without you; he also knows that it might involve cops so it's getting pretty heated."

"Heated? Like…Are you being threatened?" Bobby suddenly felt the fear that maybe this is going to reach more than just him and Logan.

Alex closed her eyes as she told him, "I haven't received any threats. I'm just saying that with investigating these cops, it's getting a little tense. You know how it is with the buddy-boy system; every time I ask a cop a question pertaining to the case I get the whole 'one of your own' speech."

Bobby knew now more than ever about the whole 'brothers in blue' mentality that cops held onto like it was their own God given oath. At that point, it was his and he had to live and breathe it like it was the only thing keeping him alive. "I want you to promise me something." He stared down into her eyes as he strongly told her, "If anything, and I mean anything, is said or implied or done to you by these cops, or you feel threatened in anyway…let me know."

"I don't think-"

"Promise me," he sternly told her. "Don't try to deal with it yourself or dismiss it, you come to me and let me know." He knew that sounded like a command, that he was giving her no opinion because he wasn't. It was a command and one that he would strongly enforce from her here on out.

She must have seen the fear and the level of seriousness in him because she suddenly grew worried. Alex nodded a little as she told him, "Okay, I promise."

He read her eyes until he knew that she meant it then gave a nod before giving her one last kiss. As Bobby left her apartment he couldn't help the fear that crept back up. If the IA operation was going to in anyway touch her, harm her, he knew what he was going to have to do. He would end it.

* * *

As soon as he turned the corner and entered the Homicide squad, Logan was coming toward him and he was looking pissed. Bobby stopped walking as he braced for whatever Logan was about to tell him.

"You asshole," Logan said as he came up to him.

Bobby briefly glanced around the room and noticed the other detectives watching. "Logan-"

"That serial case is ours; we're supposed to be working it together, as partners." Bobby went to open his mouth but Logan cut him off, saying, "If you don't want to be my partner then-"

"Whoa, wait a second, Mike. I didn't say anything about not wanting you as my partner," he said loud and defensively, making sure that the whole room heard.

"No, but you're acting like it from what I've been hearing, you're going around on your own working our case without me! What? You don't think I'm good enough to be working with the great Robert Goren, is that it? That because I'm not with Major Case then I'm not worth-"

"Logan! Calm down, I wasn't trying to exclude you from anything. It…" At catching the stares coming from everyone in the squad room, he said, "I don't want to talk about it here. Okay, lets go somewhere else. C'mon, let's take a walk."

Logan finally calmed down enough to agree. "Fine. Follow me, _partner_," he sarcastically told him as he started toward the hallway.

Bobby closed his eyes as he rubbed a hand over his neck as he followed. He was behind Logan as he led him into the men's restroom. "This isn't-"

Logan pushed the door open as be glared at him. "Get in here, now, Goren."

Not putting up a fight, he did as Logan told him. Once in the restroom, he made sure that it was empty before turning to Logan. Bobby glared at him hard before shaking his head. "I loved the sarcasm."

Logan stepped up to him before smiling. "Thanks. I wasn't sure exactly what you wanted to happen back there, but with the shocked look on your face I think I succeeded."

Bobby smiled a little as he nodded. "It was good. So, what'd you find out during your play date with Rivers?"

"Besides the fact that he likes to run games on women, and he's a horrible dancer when he's drunk, he's definitely walking on the wild side of the dark side. He likes the drugs, especially cocaine and ecstasy."

Bobby wasn't surprised to hear that. The moment he met Rivers he thought the guy was on something. "Party drugs."

Logan nodded. "He'll take anything that's offered, I'm surprised the guy hasn't overdosed yet or popped on a drug test."

"Some one might be tipping him off as to when the tests are coming up. What about you?" he asked while he went over to a urinal as he felt the sudden urge to pee. "I know you didn't do anything, but you must have made him feel okay about doing it all in front of you." Unzipping his pants, he closed his eyes as he felt the release of the pressure against his bladder.

"I pretty much just told him I was cool with it, let him think that I even tried a few things. He was so fucking gone he didn't even notice me half the time, but…I did have fun. God, I felt like I was 21 again being around people that young, and the women."

Bobby chuckled as he remembered what he had told Logan Friday night. Glancing behind him at Logan, he saw that he was looking everywhere except at him. Not caring about the personal life of Mike Logan he left it at that as he told him, "I got a little more to go on with the serial case."

"I still can't believe you went there without me. I'm actually pissed off at you for that." Before Logan could say anything else, the door to the men's room opened and Gonzalez walked in. Mike glared at Gonzalez as he suddenly accused, "And this guy here, you even helped him with his case yet you excluded me from ours."

"What'd I do?" Gonzalez asked.

"Nothing!" Logan yelled. "It's my so-called partner here-"

"Damn it, Mike, would you leave the guy alone. I already apologized-"

"I don't care about your apology." Logan then turned to Gonzales as he demanded, "Get out!" When Gonzalez didn't turn to leave, he yelled, "I said get out of here!" as he grabbed some paper towels off the counter and threw them toward Gonzalez causing him to stumble back into the door before taking off out of the restroom.

Bobby finished and zipped his zipper as he moved over to the sinks. He waited until Logan was facing him before he told him, "He's not on our list."

"I know. So, what about the serial case?"

He told him while washing his hands, "The girl, Lindsey, told me that the guy is very possessive, and rich. He has money. I saw him drive up in a Cadillac, but he didn't get out, his driver did. I watched as the driver went in the house, got the girl, and then brought her out to the car. I don't know if that's a regular thing or not but it fits our killer being mobile." Using some to the paper towels, he dried his hands before tossing them into the trash. "This guy, he's been with all the women who've been killed and Lindsey said that he was the last one with them before they disappeared. She's terrified being with him that she has to get high on coke just to continue doing it. She's afraid that she's going to be next."

"If I was her I'd be afraid too. Did she give you a description?"

"He's a, uh, a big guy. A little taller than me and built bigger. From what she told me about his accent I'd say he's from a, uh, from Brooklyn. He's older, grey hair, and wears tinted eyeglasses, fancy suits, silk ties, and rings on all his fingers. And he gave her the clothes she's to wear when she's with him. Black dress, white pearls. She got all this from him after only being with him three times. She made me for a cop within ten minutes of talking to her."

"Did she tell you where he goes with her? Where he lives?"

Bobby nodded as he told him, "Yeah, she says that when he takes her from the house, he brings her here, to Staten Island."

"So that's why he dumps them here."

Leaving the restroom, Bobby turned to him as he said, "And he's due. In a few days, we'll have another victim."

Logan was quiet for a moment as he watched him. "You think it's going to be this Lindsey girl?"

Shaking his head, he told him, "He hasn't been with her long enough. There's someone else. I tried to get the name of the other woman, but she stopped talking." Getting to their desks, Bobby shifted his thoughts away from that case to the one that he was about to close. Kevin Connelly and his lawyer were waiting for him.

"So, today's the day. How'd you feel about it?"

Bobby smiled a little as he answered, "Good." He was excited about it; he was looking forward to breaking Kevin.

"You know how you're going to approach it?"

"Yeah, and, I, uh…I want you in there for it."

Logan stopped at their desks. "Me? Goren, I don't know a single thing that's going on in that case."

Bobby took a quick glance around. Most of the detectives were ignoring them now but he caught a few looks, mostly from Jackson, Rivers, and Gonzalez…He didn't see Travis anywhere. Picking up his binder that held everything he was going to use, he started for the interrogation room while telling Logan, "You don't need to."

* * *

The room was hot, stuffy, and it felt constricting but it all worked to his advantage. Kevin Connelly was sitting across from him and he could tell that the heat was getting to the kid as he kept rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants and yanking at the hooded sweatshirt he had on. Hearing the door open, he took a glance as Logan came back in carrying four cups of water, two in each hand.

He took a sip as he watched Kevin down the whole cup before tossing it on the table. Staring over at the seventeen year old, he was reminded of himself as a teenager with no respect and care in the world for anyone or thing, not even cops. "You know what we're going to do here, Kevin."

"I'm not talking."

"You don't have to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I know you can do that."

Kevin huffed out a laugh as he glance over to his lawyer. "I don't have to stay do I?"

"You have to stay until I no longer have any questions," Bobby answered instead as he leaned on the table with his arms crossed. "Now, you can help yourself by answering them. If you didn't do it then you have nothing to worry about."

"How're you holding up? Losing your parents, that's gotta be tough, huh?" Logan suddenly asked as he took a seat next to him.

Kevin was taken back by that as he glanced to his lawyer again before answering, "It's hard, but…I'm dealing."

"Dealing how? Counseling?"

Kevin shrugged a little as he told Logan, "No, not really."

"Where were you Tuesday, November 16th?" Bobby interjected, causing Kevin to look at him.

"I donno, probably at school," Kevin told him with a hint of cockiness.

Bobby nodded a little as he flipped open his binder and picked up a mechanical pencil as he started making notations next to his notes and questions. "How is it?" As he saw the confused look on Kevin's face, he said, "School, I mean. In general. How is it for you? Um, a good experience, bad…"

"It's good."

"You're very popular, right? Have a lot of friends," he stated as he looked up at Kevin. Gesturing to him, he said, "Play a lot of sports."

"Just basketball."

Logan turned to him as he asked, "Isn't that what the Hughes kid played?"

Bobby looked over at Logan and nodded. "Yeah, it was, but he went to a different school. See," he said as he leaned back and looked to Kevin. "Kevin's family's wealthy and, uh, they have a lot of connections and, um, prospects. They got Kevin into a private school. The Hughes family, on the other hand, aren't as fortunate. Once the dad died, Mrs. Hughes had to raise two kids on her own. Money's tight for them. Terrence had to take up a job in order to pay for the things he wanted."

"So they didn't even know each other?"

Bobby shook his head before returning his attention back to his notes. He wasn't doing anything except drawing pictures around the edges of the paper. It was to help him keep his thoughts centered or else he would be going at Kevin too fast too soon with no ability to control himself. "That's what makes this all so…difficult, to understand." Putting the pencil down, he crossed his arms and leaned slightly forward as he told Kevin, "I want to understand."

Kevin was only a little agitated and defensive as he told him, "I don't know what to tell you. I didn't do nothin'."

"What'd you do after school?"

Kevin shrugged again as he answered with irritation, "I don't know, it was a month ago. I guess I went home."

"No. What do you normally do after school?" When Kevin didn't answer him, only giving him a slight shrug and irritated look, he pointed at him saying, "You like partying. Doing drugs."

"Detective," the lawyer went to cut him off.

"Don't worry, counselor, I'm not trying to bust your client, _again_, on drug charges. I'm just stating a fact."

"Yeah, okay," Kevin spoke up. "I like to party. What teenager doesn't? But I don't do it all the time. Sometimes I hang out with my friends or I go home, or I be hitting up my ho's."

"You pick them up in that Benz of yours?" Logan asked as he sipped on the cup of water.

"You jealous?" Kevin asked as he leaned on the table, getting more comfortable.

"It's a sweet ride," Bobby answered even though Kevin was addressing Logan. "You got it brand new, right off the showroom floor. Right?" he asked as he continued to stare at Kevin. "How many girlfriends you got?"

Kevin smiled with an aura of smugness that made Bobby want to laugh. "Let's just say when one ho starts hasslin' me their's another one ready to take her place."

"Ho's, huh?" Logan said as he got up and leaned against the wall as he pulled at his tie, loosening it. "That all they were to you?"

"When ain't they?"

Bobby was impressed with Logan's ability to grab hold of where he was going and what he was trying to get Kevin to admit to that it was such an easy flow back-and-forth. "Do you always drive to and from school?"

Kevin turned to him and nodded. "Sure do."

"Then, uh," he looked down at his files just to give the moment a break before he went in for the kill. "Whose truck, uh…Yeah, whose truck were you driving at the beginning of the school year?"

That made Kevin tense as he eyed him. "I…a truck? I don't own a truck."

"Really?" Bobby asked as he twisted the mechanical pencil around his fingers. He saw the sweat slipping down Kevin's forehead before the kid reached up to wipe it away. "You don't know anything about a truck that belonged to you up until the end of November? Th-the, um, the 29th to be exact." Kevin only continued to look at him as if in disbelief. "You see, Kev, I know you owned a 2001 Toyota Tacoma up until you reported it stolen on November 16th, the night Terrence Hughes was struck by that exact same vehicle." That was a lie. He had no idea what type of truck it was, but he saw the fear creep up into Kevin's eyes at that. He was thinking, wondering, fearing that the truck was found or seen. "Then, on the 29th, you became the registered owner of an oh-four Mercedes Benz. According to the record, your truck has never been found."

He saw the breath Kevin let out before he nodded while leaning back in the chair. "Okay," he told him. "I had a truck but I didn't hit anyone with it. It got stolen and it's probably somewhere in Jersey by now."

"You just lied to me, Kev."

"I didn't lie! I said I don't own a truck. And I don't own one anymore! I _did_, but that was a month ago. You're twisting my words."

Bobby glanced up at him and smiled a little. The kid was good, but he was better "Who, um, who was the cop you reported it too?"

"I told my dad and he reported it. I don't know who-" Kevin desperately looked at him as he leaned on the table, telling him, "You 'member when I told you about the trouble I was in and the cops bailing me out? That was it. I was an idiot and left my keys in the truck and my pops called the cops. That's it."

The eagerness to be believed was radiating off Kevin as his eyes bore into his. Bobby nodded a little but he knew it was a desperate lie the kid was trying to sell, and he wasn't going to buy into it. He knew the truth now, and it was time that Kevin accepted it. "She's a very beautiful girl. Isn't she?"

Kevin blinked back at him suddenly as his eyes clouded with confusion. "Wha-Who?"

Taking a picture out of his binder, he put it in front of Kevin. Logan had moved up next to him and sat down once again. Bobby watched as Kevin looked down at the picture. It was of Elizabeth Miller, and it was her high school yearbook picture. "She's only a freshman, right? Young, beautiful, rich…naive…"

Pushing the photo away, Kevin was shaking slightly as he shook his head. "I didn't think about her like that."

Bobby started laughing, causing everyone to look at him. "Didn't…didn't think about her like that? Are you blind? Or, uh…you know…on the down low?"

Kevin pushed the table toward him as he said in anger, "I'm not gay! It's just….she is young. Ya know, like…she's just a girl."

"A girl. A girl you wanted."

Kevin tried to stand up but his lawyer kept him from getting too far. "Don't touch me!" he snapped at the lawyer before sitting back down.

Bobby suddenly got up and went around the table. Kevin stared at him as panic filled his eyes. Grabbing the photo, he brought it back over, directly in front of Kevin as he told him, "You see her at school, walking in the hallways. She's with her girlfriends, all of them pretty, young, but…their's something about her that, it pulls you to her." He dropped his voice as he leaned on the table, talking to the side of Kevin as he too looked at the girl in the picture. "She's so beautiful, you can't help but stare at her. Maybe it's her blue eyes, the way they captivate you. They're as blue as the sky. And so, innocent. None of the girls your age have that look. Her innocence, and youth, her beauty…You think that, that she can be yours, and only yours. That maybe you can be her first…Her only. A girl like that, she'll follow you anywhere. Do _anything_. You can _own_ her. No other boy…"

"Shut-up."

Bobby leaned in closer, speaking right into Kevin's ear as he told him, "She looks so good doesn't she, in her private Catholic school uniform. What is it about a girl in something like that? It's prohibited, yet, they wear those damn skirts, showing off their legs that are so…long, and smooth. Inviting you in if only they just open up a little bit, right? All you have to do is just push the skirt up a little…just a little bit…"

"I told you I didn't think about her that way!"

"It's okay, Kevin, to want her. To want to love her. And you saw your opportunity to get to her. You heard her talking, maybe at a game, or you heard from a friend of hers how she liked to, you know, party, like every teenager," he threw Kevin's words back at him. "She likes to go into the city, she likes to have fun. You can have fun with her. You can show her a good time. There's nothing wrong with that. So, you invite her to a party-"

"No," Kevin stressed as he glared at the picture.

"How can a girl like that not accept? A senior, a star basketball player, asks her to go partying with him in Manhattan; somewhere she can go to get away and not have to worry about her father knowing about it. How excited was she, Kev? Huh? Did she jump up and down? Did she hug you?"

Kevin pushed away from the table but he pushed him back down into the chair. "That's not what happened!"

"You thought you were in, _golden_, she'll see what a cool guy you were and how much fun you two could have together. That you could get her anything she wanted because of the money you had. Yeah, you were the _man_. And you would soon have your woman. She'll be yours and only _yours_."

Kevin's jaw was twitching as he stared hard at the table. "I…I didn't…"

Bobby took a moment to wait, to let that set in as he glanced over at Logan and saw the acknowledgement in his eyes. At the moment, he had him. Kevin was his. "She told you that she had a boyfriend, but you," he pointed at him accusingly, "You didn't believe her. How angry were you when she showed up with another guy? You couldn't believe it, could you? You thought, you thought she was such an innocent, young girl. That there was no way she had a-a, uh, a boyfriend, and one that-that was so…Well, what did you think of Terrence? Was he respectful, and considerate, protective, funny…? Better than you? Here you were, selling drugs to your friends, and there he was, stopping you from trying to give some to his girl. Did he threaten you, Kev? Did he go 'Hey! Leave my girl alone!'" he yelled at Kevin, making him whip his head around to face him. "Or else! Right? She was _his_. He kept her away from you the whole night and all you could do was watch. Watch how happy they were together. Watch how they danced together, how he held her in his arms, how he touched her, talked to her…whispered loving words in her ear. Watch how he _kissed_ her. You watched how she smiled at him. How much she loved him. How he loved her…How angry?"

Kevin stared hard into his eyes as he was struggling to keep his control, to keep his mouth from trembling. Looking away from him, he shook his head wildly as he closed his eyes against the memory.

"C'mon, Kev," he asked softly, enticing him, "how angry?"

"I…I…No, no, I didn't. I didn't kill him. I didn't do it."

"We both know that's a lie. We all know you did. You know you did. Kevin," he said as he leaned right up against him, saying softly into his ear, "_She_ _knows you did_."

At that, Kevin snapped his eyes to his in sheer shock. It finally registered in Kevin's head that maybe Elizabeth had told; that she was the reason why he was sitting there, in that room, being interrogated. The reason why he had been arrested and accused of murder. "Elizabeth…You talked to her?"

It was the first time Kevin acknowledged her; the first time he said her name since being arrested three days ago. Bobby nodded as he leaned back a little, giving them space. "Yeah, I talked to her. She told me everything. Now, I want to hear it from you. Her version of what happened, it's…damning. She told me that you did it on purpose, that you weren't even sorry about what you did, and then you, to keep her quiet, drugged her and told her if she told, she wouldn't be believed because she was high."

Kevin pushed up out of the chair, causing it to fall to the floor as he yelled at him, "That's a lie! It was an accident! Yeah, I was angry. I was furious with that bitch! Leading me on and teasing me, kissing me on my fucking cheek when I invited her! Then she shows up with a boyfriend? Dangles him in front of me like that. She knew how much I liked her! She knew it and she was _playing_ me! I wanted her dead, not him! But he turned and saw me and…and…" he stopped as he started to shake at the memory, and the realization that he had just confessed. He broke as the tears clouded his eyes but didn't fall. "I'm so sorry," he trembled out. "I didn't…I didn't mean it. I didn't want to hurt him. He pushed her…"

Nodding a little, Bobby asked as he stared down at him, "You wanted to hurt her…but, Terrence turned, saw you coming, and he…He pushed her out of the way."

"Why…why didn't he move?" Kevin suddenly asked him as if he actually thought he could give him the answer.

Feeling the pain that was threatening to dig out his heart, he pushed it down as he closed his eyes. Terrence's death had been a horrible tragedy, a mistake. Shaking his head, Bobby grabbed Kevin by the shoulder as he opened his eyes. Holding him steady, he gave Kevin an answer, "He was a man, Kevin. He protected her…Gave his life for her." Taking Kevin's right hand, he brought it up against his back and cuffed it before taking a hold of his left wrist doing the same.

Five minutes later he left the interrogation room and headed right to the Lieutenant's office. Logan was calling after him but he ignored him as he tapped on the closed office door.

"Come in."

Going into the office, he closed the door behind him as he stood in front of her desk and waited. Williams ended the phone call and looked up at him but before she could ask him what was going on, he asked, "Can I have the rest of the day?"

That surprised her as she sat back in her chair and looked him over. Williams was trying to gauge his well-being and with not seeing anything physically wrong with him, she told him, "You don't look sick."

"It's not…" Bobby trailed off as he closed his eyes and rubbed at his head. He didn't know how to explain to her that he needed the time for the simple fact that he couldn't be at work right now. "It's for a personal matter." Hoping that would satisfy her, he looked up and saw the sympathy in her eyes. He didn't like that look, but if it would get him what he wanted he'd take it.

"You got the kid to confess?"

He nodded because that was all he could do at the moment.

Williams smiled a little as she told him, "Then take the day. I'm going to have to address the press, settle everything down that's been going on around this case since Sullivan confess to it…I suppose giving you a break would be okay. You have enough overtime to cover the hours."

Breathing out hard he thanked her by nodding a little before he started to leave the room. Stopping at the door, he turned back and asked, "What time's the press conference?"

"Probably noon. The vultures are still camped out on our doorstep."

Logan was sitting on the edge of his desk, waiting for him. "What's going on?"

Bobby put his files away as he straightened up the desk that Logan was sitting on. "I'm leaving. Taking the rest of the day off."

"Are you okay?"

Looking at his partner, he nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…tired, you know. I'll be good to go tomorrow. That's our big day, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. Tomorrow is make it or break it day with the drug squad. You still got a handle on Ray?"

"He's good to go. Scared, but…he should be." Bobby smiled a little as he grabbed his overcoat. "See ya tomorrow, Mike."

"Yeah, and hey, good work in there."

Accepting the comment from his partner, something that rarely happened between the two of them, Bobby smiled a little as he headed out of the squad room.

* * *

He had to rush if he wanted to beat the coverage of the press conference at noon. After grabbing a cup of coffee and bagel at the café a few blocks away, he arrived at the Hughes' house a half-hour before the scheduled press conference. Some of the snow had been melted by the rain they had a few nights before, leaving patches of dead lawn exposed. He could no longer make out the snow angels and the snowman had melted into a big snowball by the steps. The temperature was dropping and he heard on the radio while driving to work that it was going to start snowing again tomorrow. It was going to be a snowy white, and cold, Christmas after all.

Knocking on the door, he hoped she was home as he waited on the steps. Moments passed and still no answer. Breathing out, and seeing his breath in the air, he knocked once again and pressed his ear to the door in case she was calling through the house. At not hearing anything, not even moments or footsteps, he groaned and went to walk to his car when he heard a voice.

"Are you a salesman?"

Bobby turned and saw the woman next door checking her mail. Taking his shield off his belt, he told the woman, "I'm a cop."

"Oh, the detective. She'll be back inna minute. My husband drove her to the store."

He saw the car sitting in the driveway and that was why he thought she was home. "Is something wrong with her car?"

"Yeah, it ain't workin'."

Bobby smiled a little at that. Obviously. "Thanks, I'll wait."

Looking around, he didn't want to stay on the porch and it was cold so he went back to his car and got in. Turning on the heat and sipping at the rest of his coffee, he waited. It reminded him of the first time he had questioned Mrs. Hughes. He had sat in his car after the interview, smoking on a cigarette, and watched as Heaven skipped down the sidewalk and played in the snow. Despite the clear and precise memory it generated in his head, the conversation he had with her felt like such a long time ago. He had promised her he would find the person responsible, give her the closure she deserved. Breathing out hard, he rolled the window down and gave into his need for a smoke. Searching behind the seat, he couldn't find the pack anywhere.

Getting out, he moved his seat forward and looked under it but still didn't find it. He got into the backseat and searched under the passenger seat and still nothing. Sitting up in the backseat he tried to remember if he had thrown them away…He hadn't. The last time he even looked into the back of his car was when Nathan was…

Bobby looked over to where Alex had put Nathan's car seat a few days ago. If the pack was in the way, she would have picked it up and thrown it away. He didn't remember her throwing anything away. Pushing his seat forward, he climbed out of his car and went to get back in it when he saw a car pull in next door. In the passenger seat he saw Mrs. Hughes. Taking his keys out of the ignition, he shut the door and hit the lock button twice, hearing the alarm set, as he walked down the sidewalk.

As he approached he saw the weary look of the neighbor's husband before he spotted the shocked yet welcoming look from Mrs. Hughes. Bobby tried for a smile but it didn't feel like it made it to his lips as he took the grocery bag from her. "How are?" he asked her suddenly, not knowing why.

Mrs. Hughes smiled warmly at him even though the shock was replaced with apprehension. "I'm doing good, thank you. Oh, George, this is that detective I was telling you about. This is Detective Goren."

Bobby glanced at the man and received a nod before addressing Mrs. Hughes. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

She waved him off before turning to George. "We'll be over at five, okay. And I'll bring my famous casserole dish and some cookies."

"Okay, Delores, we'll see you then."

_Delores. _It was the first time he heard Mrs. Hughes first name. Carrying her bag full of groceries, he followed her across the yard into her house. He took the bag to the kitchen while she headed deeper into the house. Putting the bag down on the counter, he couldn't help but take a glance at what was in it. She was preparing to make a green bean casserole for her dinner tonight with her neighbors. He hoped she would still be able to go through with it once he informed her that he had her son's killer.

Moving around the kitchen, he took it all in. The cleanliness was slipping from what he remembered a few weeks before. She was neglecting daily chores, and who was he to judge? He hadn't cleaned his house in days…a week? Elliot was the one keeping his house in good order while he worked, and worked, and worked.

"You've got to excuse the mess."

Bobby shook his head as he looked away from the counter he was scanning. Eyeing her, he noticed that she had removed her coat along with the glasses she had on. Not knowing where to start, he smiled a little, this time feeling it, as he asked, "How are things? Heaven doing okay?"

At the mention of her daughter, Mrs. Hughes tried for a brave smile. "She's holding up. There's good days, and bad ones. Yesterday was a bad one. She…she came into my bedroom because she had a nightmare, I was still awake, and…with the state I was in, it upset her even more."

Bobby understood what she was saying as he nodded and confirmed, "You were…crying."

Nodding a little, she went over to the bag and started taking the food out. "So, I was talking to Alice today, that's my neighbor, and she invited us over. Heaven loves going over there to play because they have two dogs and a cat. I'm actually thinking that getting her a pet might do her good. I know a cat is a poor substitute for her brother, but…"

She was shaking and about to drop the half gallon of milk when he grabbed it. Bobby put it on the counter but before he could do or say anything else she was in his arms, crying against his shoulder. He froze, his breath caught, and his heart skipped a painful beat before he could function again.

At first, he blinked as his brain caught up to what was happening. Then he felt himself lift his arms. Thinking that he was going to ease her away from him, he was startled when he found himself wrapping her arms around her.

"You got him, didn't you?"

Bobby couldn't believe it. She knew, but of course she did. A mother could tell. Nodding he went to speak but nothing came out. Clenching his eyes shut, he tried to gather his control but it wasn't working. He was broken. That thought came back to him like a tidal wave. Alex had broken him and now he couldn't keep anything away. His control was gone. Fighting against the anger that thought caused him, he found himself shaking against the woman. His voice sounded raw, tight, and it gave a slight tremor as he spoke, "Yes…I got him."

The grieving mother nodded into his shoulder as the tears continued to come harder. "Was it…?"

"It was an accident," Bobby told her, not knowing what else to say, or do as he hugged her tighter.

He thought that he should let go, end the embrace but he couldn't gather the will to do so. The journey he had taken with this woman and her family while trying to solve the case was one that he had never allowed himself to take. It was a journey that involved more than the facts and the evidence of the case, or of the mindset and emotions of the killer he was after. It involved, at its very core and life, the mindset and emotions of this family. He had let them in without even realizing it. Somehow the woman that was crying in his arms had pierced through his thick, un-penetrable skin, and hit his heart.

Fragments, he thought again. He was fragmented, leaving pieces of his soul everywhere because of her, because of Alex. She had ruined him and now it all hurt. Everything hurt too damn much. "I'm sorry."

Shaking her head, he heard her voice cut through his own misery, "It's okay. It'll all be okay." Her strength was still there; it sounded like it was coming back in full force as she held him tighter.

Strange, it seemed like she was comforting him. That was when he felt how weak his own legs were and how he was no longer holding her up but she was supporting him. Mrs. Hughes was tall for a woman, about five feet eight, and she had no problem keeping him on his feet. This woman barely knew him yet he was trembling and on the verge of emotionally dying in her arms when her own son was dead. "Sorry," he apologized again but this time for his own breakdown and selfishness.

"Who, who took my boy from me?"

Feeling his body shiver at answering that, he gently told her, "It, uh…it was another kid; seventeen year old."

With that added knowledge she closed her eyes while whispering, "Oh, Lord…Such…such a shame."

There was a deep urge in him, a need that wasn't driven by desire or lust, but by comfort and kindness. A purely human and instinctive urge to ease the pain of another human being. With knowing no inhibitions he didn't hesitate as he placed a gentle kiss on her temple while telling her, "He saved his girlfriend's life…Your son, he was a brave young man. You should be proud."

Mrs. Hughes smiled up at him as she told him, "I already am." She slowly moved away from him but kept her hands on his shoulders as she stared up at him. "Thank you. I don't know how, or why, this happened…Why you got my case or why that other detective did what he did but…I feel that you were sent to me for a reason, by God," she smiled slightly. "You're an angel. My angel."

The tears were hard to fight back but he somehow managed it as she pushed up a little on her tip-toes and pressed a kiss against his cheek. Bobby closed his eyes against the feel it caused to his heart and soul.

"I'm never going to see you again, am I?"

"No," he softly told her as he shook his head. "Probably not." As he opened his eyes, he took a deep inhale of air. He was getting dizzy and lightheaded suddenly, he had to find a way to regain his composure.

Mrs. Hughes cupped his jaw as she told him, "There's a lot of hurt in you. Try to take care of yourself, Bobby."

"I-I, uh…I will. I've got, I got someone who…She, she's trying to help me with that."

At that, she smiled with joy as she stepped away. "I'm glad. We all need someone. I've got Heaven, and I've still got my son and husband in spirit. I'll be okay."

Bobby had to do something, quickly, before his chest collapsed. "Th-the, uh, the, um…I mean, your neighbor, she told me that-that, uh, that your car's not working?"

"I tried starting it this morning but it wouldn't even turnover."

Looking around for the keys, he asked, "Mind if I take a look?"

Mrs. Hughes pulled a set of keys off the hook by the backdoor and handed it to him.

Bobby thanked her before heading out of the house and into the cool air that shook him hard. Getting into the car, he closed his eyes as he tried to drown the emotions that were pulsing to overflow. Focusing on figuring out what was wrong with the car, he put the key into the ignition and turned it. At hearing the tap-tap-tap coming from under the hood, he smiled because he knew exactly what was wrong. There was a problem with the connection to the battery. Pulling the tab to open the hood, he heard and saw it pop open before turning the car off and getting out.

TBC…


	18. So much for covert operations

**A/N:** Thanks again everyone for the reviews and for reading! Also, I don't own any of the songs mentioned in his chapter. And Reggie's restaurant was invented by me, so any similarities to any other place in NYC is incidental.

Enjoy!

* * *

Bobby had given her his confidence that morning and it helped to give her the strength she needed to go up against Captain Deakins when he had called both her and Copeland into his office. It was going on week three of the investigation into the Connelly murders and they were spinning around in circles with evidence that went nowhere. All of it seemed to be a fabrications, smoke and mirrors, that was being used to mislead them at every turn. The only thing they knew for a fact was that it looked to be a cover-up and the ones responsible for it, the murderers, were cops.

The problem was that they had no solid proof of anything. It was all speculation, circumstantial at best, and no DA, or in their case ADA, was going to sign off on anything against a group of police officers without evidence or some form of proof.

"I'm getting it from all angles from the Brass on down with this one," Deakins was telling them as he pulled at his tie, loosening it from around his neck. "Now, I need to have something to give them by the end of the week or I'll have no choice but to reassign the case. Either way, you two will be put back on rotation by next week."

"The only cops that can help us aren't talking, Captain," she tried to explain; it was beating a dead horse. They've been having this same argument for weeks. "There's-"

"Then step into them! Hard."

"With what? We have no leverage. No evidence that even says that they're hiding anything except for the simple fact that we know they are. We've looked everywhere for proof of corruption, a cover-up, anything to solidify our suspicions and all of it leads back to Detective Sullivan who's dead."

"Maybe that's all it will ever lead to," Copeland spoke up from the chair he was sitting in. "Sullivan could be our guy. Our killer could be dead. We're just running around in circles trying to prove otherwise."

Deakins rubbed at his face, trying to ward off his impending migraine. Alex had seen him do that many times before but mostly after Goren had stubbornly held his ground against him. "He had a partner, didn't he? Get me something, even if it's a confirmation that Sullivan was behind these murders, and I'll be satisfied with it. But I need proof of something by Friday. Is that understood?"

Alex felt the same frustration as Deakins as she looked to her partner. Copeland gave a slight nod before heading toward the door. "We'll try, Captain," she answered before quietly following Copeland out of the office.

"I don't know what he's expecting," Copeland said as he grabbed his jacket.

"He's expecting a miracle, one that usually Goren was able to get for him. I guess it's back to Staten Island. Sullivan's partner was Detective Travis. We'll start with him."

Almost an hour later, they had tracked down Detective Dwight Travis and he was just as forthcoming as all the other cops on Staten Island, which was to say the man wouldn't loosen his lips for anyone. They were at the corner diner where the detective was picking up an order that looked like it could serve five people. Alex watched as he paid and asked, "Who's all this for?"

"Me and a couple guys in Homicide."

"Goren and Logan two of those guys?" Copeland asked as he held the door for Travis.

"Just Logan, Goren took the rest of the day off. He's got personal affairs to take care of."

Alex wondered just what those personal affairs were as she took a quick glance over to Copeland who also looked to her for confirmation. She didn't know if Travis was aware of her and Bobby's relationship, but Harry knew. She shook her head, indicating that she wasn't aware of anything going on as they followed Travis the three blocks back to the station. "Detective," she said, getting the focus back on why they were there. "We know that Sullivan was in contact with the Connelly's the day of their deaths, we also know that he had been employed by them on several occasions."

"I never said he wasn't. Look, I know it's wrong, but they were his friends. If something went down, and if Lance felt it was right to help them out of a jam, who was I to tell him differently. I didn't care. As long as he didn't break any laws, who'm I to come between friends."

"Are you telling us that you didn't have a hand in any of these so called 'friendly favors'?"

Travis stopped at the steps of the precinct and turned to face them, her mostly. "No, Detective Eames, I wasn't. If he went, he went on his own. That's all I know. Lance didn't talk much, ya know? If it was personal, he kept it out of the squad room."

She had no proof to dispute that. The Connelly's never called on Detective Travis, only Sullivan.

"How's it going, Wyatt?" a detective asked as he passed them on the sidewalk.

Travis grinned wide as he said, "Hey, Jimmy. Here," he said as he handed the bags of food to him, "take this up with you before it gets cold."

Alex watched as Jimmy took the food and then looked them over. He was a short man, a little taller than she was, with shaggy brown hair and a smile that she was certain some women went crazy over. She noticed the detective shield hanging around his neck on a chain and assumed he worked homicide.

"Detective Jimmy Rivers," he said as he introduced himself. Rivers was blatantly ignoring Copeland as he eyed her.

Alex glared at him before asking, "You're with Homicide too?"

"That's right. Anything I can help you with?" Rivers asked.

"No," Travis interrupted. "You can get that food inside to your partner and Logan before they pound you."

Rivers gave Travis a look before heading into the building, but not before giving her a look that would have set Bobby off had he been there.

Alex shrugged off the slime that was Jimmy Rivers as she looked to Copeland.

Harry looked apologetic, having caught the look, but he got right back on track as he asked, "We need to talk to Goren again, do you by any chance know where he went?"

Alex was surprised by that because they hadn't talked about needing to talk to Bobby again.

Travis shook his head. "Nah, that guy's…You never know what Goren's doing when he's here yet alone when he's gone. Logan's here, working on one of Sullivan's old cases."

"Is that all they're working, Sullivan's old cases?"

"It would've been if Goren hadn't uncovered a serial. There's a murderer/rapist going around killing prostitutes. He actually thought he could get the patrols to keep an eye out for them. The only ones that can watch those girls are themselves, and whoever's working Vice."

Alex knew that kind of police work all too well. She gave a nod and that was it until Copeland spoke up again.

"I'm surprised Goren didn't get laughed out the precinct offering up something like that."

"He nearly did, but…" Travis shrugged a little before saying, "You get used to Bobby's idealistic ideas of how he thinks you should do your job."

"Is that causing any kind of riff between him and the other officers?" Alex asked before Copeland got a chance to.

"I guess that depends on who you talk to," Travis answered. "I like the guy, and so does most of the other cops in Homicide."

Alex was trying to gauge where Copeland was going in this line of questioning. He seemed more interest in Bobby than in Sullivan.

"Anything else?" Travis asked as he took a look up the steps toward the front doors.

"Can you verify Sullivan's whereabouts on the day the Connelly's were murdered?"

At that, Travis looked down at her before frowning as if he just found out his dog was dead, or that his former partner could have been guilty of murder. "No, I can't. He got a call early in the day, said he had some things to take care of, and then he quit a few days later. Never saw or talked to him again."

"You never tried calling him? Asking why he quit or what was going on?" she asked.

Travis shook his head. "I didn't think it was my place."

"He was your partner. You didn't care?"

"Hey," he suddenly snapped as he went on the defense. "He was my boy, but I was pissed off at him for leaving like that. I wanted…" the guilt that registered in his eyes could have won him a prize. Alex wasn't buying it for a second. "I wanted to wait until I didn't feel like beating the shit out of him before I called him up. I was going to give it a few days then take him out for a drink. How was I to know he was planning on offing himself."

Alex went to confirm with Copeland but he was already nodding. She thought they were done until Harry delivered another bombshell.

"What'd you think about Goren being the last person Sullivan talked to?"

She nearly smacked Copeland until she turned to Travis and saw the shock in his eyes. Maybe Harry was getting somewhere. He was getting to a place that she wasn't practically willing to go down.

Travis was silent for a long moment before he answered, "I'm sorry that the guy had to witness that."

"Okay," Copeland said, "I think we're done. I got your number in case anything else comes up."

Travis gave them both one last look before heading up the steps and disappearing into the building.

Copeland turned to her and immediately held up his hands to ward off her angry refute. "It had to be asked. Whether you like it or not, Goren's mixed up in this shit somehow."

Alex finally sighed and gave a nod. She knew that, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "I know."

While they walked back to the car she didn't know whether it was a good thing or not that Copeland was her partner. Where she was having obvious problems going down this path of corrupt cops that could or could not involve Bobby, Copeland had no such issues. She figured, as she got into the driver's seat, that it was a good thing.

She went to start the SUV but stopped herself. Alex sat for a moment, gathering her thoughts and her emotions as she tried to separate the two. Why did this have to get so complicated? Why was she having such a hard time keeping it from getting personal? Because it was Bobby. Because she was in love with him, and because she knew that he wasn't telling her the whole truth. She could read him and she knew he was troubled. She knew that he was drowning and it was within his own self.

"You actually think he turned?" Alex asked as she stared out of the windshield. "Look, I know Bobby, he's not a bad cop and he never will be a bad cop."

Copeland was quiet for a moment before he voiced his opinion, "I think this is a conflict of interest for you. I think that you're having a hard time being objective, and maybe you should be taken off this case."

Alex turned to him and said a little too harshly, "You what? I'm not backing off this; I'll go where it takes me but I'm telling you, Goren's clean on this."

"And what if he isn't? What then?"

"Then…" she knew he wasn't. So that meant he was innocently thrown into the middle or it or, or he had asked to be thrown into the middle of it. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. There was only one way to prove Bobby's innocence, or to prove that, if anything, he was working it undercover, and that was for her to stay on it. There had to be somebody on Bobby's side in all this. "Then I'll take him down with the rest of them."

Copeland looked like he didn't believe her, but then he nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry, Eames. I didn't mean to throw him on the fire like that, but it got the reaction I was looking for."

"That Detective Travis didn't like it at all that Bobby was the last person to see, and talk, to Sullivan before his death."

Copeland only nodded.

* * *

Bobby didn't know what he was thinking, but he knew that he needed some reassurances. There were only a handful of people he trusted with what he knew, and less than that with his life. Only three were in the NYPD, one was his current partner, one was his ex-partner and girlfriend, and the third was seated on the eleventh floor at One Police Plaza. Keeping his head down, he made his way through the lobby and into an elevator without being confronted. Once he got up on the eleventh floor it would be a different story.

The rumors that Internal Affairs was putting out about him was gathering heat and spreading like a wildfire around the police departments all the way from Staten Island to Brooklyn and into Manhattan. He was starting to gather favoritism around the Homicide department with the corrupt cops but it came at a price. It came with losing that same favoritism and the trust that he once had with good cops he had worked with for years. He knew there were a loyal few who stood behind him, like Alex and maybe the guys he played basketball with every other Thursday, and Elliot who had yet to confront him with what he thought so he knew that he didn't put much stock into the rumors. If it had been a few months ago there was no way he would have Stabler's trust; the SVU detective would have believed every malicious word said about him.

Feeling the elevator slow, he took a breath as the doors slid open exposing the all too familiar hallway. As he expected, the looks he got as soon as he rounded the corner were hostile, suspicious, and not at all welcoming. They reminded him of the looks he received after they all thought he was responsible for Dan Croydon's suicide; they were disowning him as one of their own. He couldn't let them get to him. He couldn't let it get personal. They would know the truth soon enough, hopefully if all went according to plan.

Giving a light tap on Deakins office, he heard a harsh "Come in" before he pushed the door open.

Deakins looked up from staring at his desk. At seeing it was him, he asked in surprise, "Bobby, what're you doing here?"

What was he doing there? That was a very good question. He actually wasn't sure of the answer, but it didn't matter all he knew was that he didn't want to talk about it there in that office, or in that building.

Bobby smiled a little as he looked around the room. It was a good office, good room, and he had missed it. He had missed the man sitting behind the desk. "Can we talk, Captain?"

"Of course," Deakins said while standing. "Have a seat."

Bobby eyed the chair but shook his head. "Uh, not here. Can we go somewhere? I've got the day off, so…How about we go to Gordon's? I could go for a good steak and beer."

Deakins thought about that for half a second before he smiled. "I'll buy."

"Even better," he teased the Captain before following him out. This time the prying eyes were less obvious but he knew it was only due to the fact that Deakins was now with him.

Less than thirty minutes later they were shown to a table near the back of Gordon's Steakhouse. The last time he had been there was for a case, and thanks to Deakins they had learned some valuable information that lead to the Judge that was responsible for a hit on another Judge's law clerk.

After the waitress took their orders, a Guinness for the Captain and a bottle of Schneider Weisse for him, Bobby didn't know where to start. This meeting was an impulsive move on his part and he wasn't exactly certain what he was expecting to tell his former Captain. It seemed like things were slowly starting to spin out of control and he needed to find some solid ground somewhere. He would have went to Alex for guidance but he couldn't yet. He questioned himself again with why he wasn't going to Garrison with his concerns. Why he wasn't talking to his contact, but it all came down to there was no trust. He didn't trust the IA officer, not like he did the man that was seated across from him at the table.

"So, Bobby, are you going to tell me what this is about or am I going to have to play twenty questions?"

Bobby nodded slightly as he looked around. The waitress was coming with their drinks so he waited until she was gone, and took a few drinks of the beer, before clearing his throat. "I, um…I need your advice."

"Okay, you've got me so far."

He always liked Deakins, and the man had shown his trust and loyalty in him from the very beginning. Bobby knew that Deakins would still have his back even after all the shit hit the fan. "I need to know what you are aware of…Captain."

Deakins was taken back by such a bold statement. It wasn't a question, and it wasn't one that left room for negotiation. The strict tone he had said it was proof of that. "I'm aware of a lot of things, Goren, can you be a little more specific."

Bobby lifted his eyes to the man he had once viewed as a father figure while saying simply, "About me."

Deakins took a deep, calming breath as he eyed him. "If you're asking if I'm aware of the rumors, yes, I am. Do I believe any of them? No, and I never will. I know you, Bobby."

Bobby nodded a little as he closed his eyes; the sincerity was there. He still had Deakins trust. "Do you?" he suddenly asked. This was the tricky part, planting the seed of information, or realization, without coming right out and saying it. "You know what I'm capable of?"

"What's this about? You're acting like you don't know whether to believe the rumors or not yourself." And just as he said it, something registered in Deakins eyes as he asked in a deep breath, "Jesus…What did you do?"

Bobby took a long drink of the beer as he thought about how to answer that. This was getting into troublesome ground; he could practically feel the earth shake under him. "I-I, uh…I think I've entrusted myself with a lot of bad and very wrong people." There it was, all of it out in the open with him having to come right out and say it.

_So much for covert operations._

He watched as Deakins closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. Bobby felt like doing the same but he had to get this out. He was sinking faster than he had predicted. It felt like gravity was pushing and pushing and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He needed to form a wall around him, one of protection, one that could stop the gates of Hell from opening up and swallowing him. His own wall was crumbling, breaking into a million pieces because he was breaking. He had been broken and he knew it was a feeling that wasn't going to die away anything soon. It had been a long time coming.

Deakins moved forward on the seat, getting closer to him, as he leaned on his knees. Gesturing for him to come closer, Bobby moved his seat closer and leaned forward. The way they were positioned, they could talk without anyone else hearing; it reminded him of getting into a huddle during basketball practice.

"There are things stirring around the ninth floor," Deakins said in a near whisper.

Bobby nodded a little. "About the Connelly case?"

"About a lot of things, the Connelly case included. What's also included is you, and Logan. Now, I don't know a lot, the Brass can keep a tight lid on just about anything, but what is getting through pertains to the rumors that are circulating around. There's some that think they're all true, some that don't, and then there's me…I think something stinks. I think something's going on behind closed doors and until two minutes ago I couldn't make head or tails of anything."

Bobby took in everything that he had just been told. Deakins had been suspicious, starting to wonder what was going on, because he knew that he wouldn't, or couldn't be turned. "And now…"

"You're a good cop and whatever is going on, I know you'll do what's right."

Bobby held the sigh of relief because he still wasn't done yet. "This, what I'm doing, it's going deep, Captain," he said that like it was a great confession, and to him it was. It was one that was torturing his very soul; twisting it with so much guilt and anger that it was nearly impossible to breath without feeling the clenching pain it caused. "I know things that, that you need to know…things that could help with the Connelly case."

"Bobby," Deakins said that in a near plea as he placed his hand on his head. The way Deakins let him rest his head on his felt awkward, yet it gave him a comfort he hadn't felt in a very long time. It felt like a father comforting a son. His daughters were lucky to have a man like him for a dad. "You can't tell me this."

"I know, but…I-I…I have to know I can trust someone."

"What about Alex?"

"I trust her, but she, she's working the case, I can't tell her, not without jeopardizing myself, what I'm trying to do. You can at least know, to-to, uh, to make a-a…an informed decision."

"The Brass, they want something by Friday. Some form of proof or evidence to keep this investigation alive or else they're going to reassign it. Or, and my guess is, they might just let it drop, say it's unsolvable at the moment. Give it to unsolved cases."

"What about Eames? It's her case."

Deakins was quiet for a long moment before telling him, "Her and Copeland's inability to solve this is going to be big. It's Copeland's first case with MCS, and he's struggling with the complexity of it, and so is Alex. Corrupt cops are right in the middle of it, and it's going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better. The Assistant Chief pulled a lot of strings to get Copeland the transfer, and if he doesn't show that he can cut it then he's going back to Homicide."

Bobby closed his eyes and took a hesitant breath, wanting for the other shoe to drop.

"As for Alex, the Brass have always liked her, she's good, she's smart, she has management potential. So far, this first case back is dragging her down, and we both know it."

He barely nodded; it was hard to accept but it was the truth. And he was intentionally making it harder for her to solve because he had to remain silent, plead the fifth, about his own knowledge of the crime. "They're not going to demote her or anything are they?"

"No, they're not stupid. Depending on her performance, solve rate, in the next few months, they'll make their decision to either keep her on as a detective or offer her a managerial position. They'll force her to take the Lieutenant's exam or be sent somewhere else."

"Those mother fu-" Bobby pushed back, cutting his own self off as he stood. He felt the hot pulse of anger pumping through his veins as it took all his effort not to hit something or go off in the middle of the restaurant. Eyeing Deakins, he told him, "She's a detective with the Major Case Squad, it's where she belongs and deserves to be."

"You don't have to make the argument with me. If I was in charge of it, I would keep her right where she is, and with you as her partner, but it's not ultimately up to me. I get my say, but it's up to the Chief, the Commissioner…Bobby, sit down."

Bobby stopped his pacing and sat down, grabbed his beer, and downed the rest of it. He was no longer interested in eating anything and was glad that they hadn't ordered any food yet. It would have been a waste.

Deakins leaned on the table and dropped his voice, asking him, "What are they offering you?"

He spun the bottle around a few times, craving another one, as he thought about what to tell him. Leaning closer to Deakins, Bobby said, "I can't, but I know you can take a guess at what I asked for."

"To come back to Major Case."

Bobby smiled a little. "It's the only thing I've got to bargain with. If I succeed…" he nodded the rest. _If I succeed. _

"And if you don't?"

There it was. The biggest question of them all. If he didn't succeed, then what? "A multitude of things can happen. None of them sound too promising, but, I'm not looking to fail. I can't and I won't."

Deakins smiled at that. "I've always loved your stubborn determination, Goren. I have faith in you. What about Logan?"

"He's good. We're working it."

"Was he offered the same thing as you? He used to work at the 2-7, right?"

"Yeah," Bobby hesitated for a moment, before telling Deakins, "but, I, uh…I was hoping that you might consider Logan coming to Major Case."

Deakins didn't say anything to that as the waitress approached and asked if they were ready to order.

"I'll have another beer, thanks."

Deakins finished what was left in his glass but didn't order anything else. Once the waitress was gone, he looked to him and shook his head. "You're asking me to pull some favors."

"You wouldn't have to pull a lot. It's already been offered up on the table. All you have to do is say yes or no."

"Bobby," Deakins said as if he was about to send him to his room without dinner.

"He deserves a chance, and if he can help me get off that island alive then the least I can do is help him get that chance." Bobby looked to his Captain and nearly pleaded with the man to see it his way. "Can you at least consider it?"

Deakins finally gave a nod. "Yeah, I'll consider it."

The waitress was back and Bobby thanked her as he took the bottle right out of her hand and took a sip of it. Deakins watched him for a long moment before asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Bobby rubbed at his head as he felt a sudden throbbing behind his eyes. "I never said I was."

"How've you been sleeping?"

He shook his head slightly as he felt the headache getting worse. Bobby closed his eyes as he willed the impending pain away but knew it was pointless. "I'm…I'm doing good with sleep,"…_or lack thereof_, he thought as he dropped his hand and opened his eyes. Taking another drink of the beer, he didn't feel like talking anymore.

"Bobby?"

Looking up, he tried for a smile as he told Deakins, "Thank you, Captain. I need to get going."

As he stood to leave, Deakins took hold of his arm, keeping him from walking by him. "If you ever need to talk…"

"I know." Once Deakins let him go, Bobby hurried out of the restaurant and into the cold afternoon air.

* * *

She had the radio going, tuned into her favorite station that played anything from the '80's, '90's, and today, as she took her time getting ready. Bobby had called, telling her to go all out on her appearance even though he didn't mention where he decided to take her that evening. Alex was glad he had called because she had been trying to figure out what to wear for the past half-hour.

Looking into the mirror, she put the brush down as she picked up another bobby-pin and put the loose strains of hair back. At work she mostly wore her hair down because she didn't feel like messing with it. When a call came in she just needed to be able to get up and go, there was no time to do her hair. However, when she got to dress up and go on a date, she liked messing with it, putting it up or back or something. Anything to make it different.

"_It must be your skin I'm sinking in, must be for real because now I can feel…"_

Bush's song _Glycerine _was playing as she picked up her eyeliner; she couldn't help but sang along as she started highlight her eyes.

"…_it's not my time to wonder why. Everything's gone white, everything's grey, now you're here, now you're away; I don't want this, remember that, I'll never forget where you're at…Don't let the days go by…"_

As the lyrics drifted through her apartment, she was reminded of her and Bobby. It sounded like something he would sing and she couldn't help but smile. She wondered if he liked the song or had ever even heard of it. He probably had, it was a British grunge band after-all. And she knew about Bobby's extensive taste in music. He listened to everything.

"_I'm never alone, I'm alone all the time. Are you at one, or do you lie? We live in a wheel, where everyone steals, but when we rise it's like strawberry fields…"_

Once she was done with the eyeliner, she looked down to pick up the lipstick and when she looked back into the mirror there he was. Bobby was leaning against the doorframe watching her and she went speechless.

"_If I treated you bad, you bruise my face, couldn't love you more you got a beautiful taste…Don't let the days go by, could have been easier on you, I couldn't change though I wanted to…"_

"Don't let me stop you," he told her as he smiled a little.

Alex took him in through the mirror. He was wearing a charcoal grey suit, black dress shirt, and a dark brown tie that intensified his chocolate colored eyes. The man was the absolute personification of sex appeal and she felt herself responding accordingly. Smiling at his appearance, and trying to hide her sudden urge to trap him to the floor, she went back to applying the lipstick as he stepped up behind her.

Bobby wrapped his arms around her waist then tilted his head down to breathe her in. She couldn't help but lean back into the embrace and let herself get taken in by his warmth. "…don't let the days go by," he started to sing softly into her ear.

She wanted to laugh; she had been right. Through the glass she saw that he was smiling as well as he gently swayed her along with the music. "You're constantly surprising me, Goren."

Bobby only grinned a little before kissing over her ear. He continued to sing softly, "I needed you more, when we wanted us less…" he trailed off as he placed a kiss on her temple, "…it might just be clear simple and plain, well that's just fine, that's just one of my names…Don't let the days go by," she watched as he closed his eyes as he softly said, "could've been easier on you."

Alex saw how that last lyric was sung. The words meant something to him; he was telling them to her. He rested his head against hers and she nearly broke with the sorrow she felt coming off him. Turning her head, she ran her hand along the back of his neck, through his hair, as she kissed him.

She shivered as his hands smoothed down her chest over her black silk dress, then up to her breasts where he squeezed softly before holding her tight. They were both shaking, her with the anticipation of his touch, and him…Alex didn't know why he was quivering. It could've been for the same reason, for the feel of her against him. The touches she was giving him along his neck, but she couldn't be for certain. It could have been from what was going on in his head, the sense of pain she was getting from him. Or-and this was what she concluded it to be-a combination of both.

"Ready," he asked once they broke the kiss.

Funny, she had expected more than that from him. Not just with his words, but with the way he was looking at her, touching her, and needing her. She had thought they would end up late getting to the restaurant. "Everything okay?" she asked as she turned into his embrace and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

Bobby's smile was reassuring but his eyes were betraying him. He wasn't all with her tonight; there was something going on, something he wasn't telling her, and she didn't know what to do. If she asked, she knew what his answer would be, _if _he gave her an answer. And she didn't want to hear the lie. She didn't want to have to make him lie to her. So, she decided not to ask. Not to push.

"How'd I look?"

His eyes flickered down, taking her in, well most of her in. Alex rolled her eyes as he didn't get further than her chest.

Bobby only smiled, this time it lit his eyes before he placed a quick kiss on her forehead. "Breathtaking as always," he told her as he backed away from her but left his hand on the small of her back as he guided her out of the bathroom.

He wouldn't take his eyes off her; if she had driven, she was certain he would have been eyeing her the entire time in the car. The male host showed them to their table, after calling out Bobby as 'Mr. Goren', and lead them to a table by a huge bay window that overlooked Central Park. When they had pulled up to the valet in front of the hotel that housed Reggie's on the twentieth floor, she had been more than shocked. She had no idea how he even gotten a reservation to the five-star restaurant but she wasn't about to ask.

Bobby made it to the table before the host did and pulled out the chair for her, making her blush slightly as she sat down. He then thanked the host, shook his hand, and then sat down. The passing of the money between his hand and the host didn't go unnoticed by her and that was another thing she didn't mention as she turned to looked out the window.

Central Park from twenty floors up looked awe-inspiring. The park was covered in snow, the lamplights lighted the paths that wrapped around the bare, iced trees, and she could see clearly from the south end of the park to the north and the city line beyond. "This is all too much," she found herself saying.

Bobby set his gaze on her as he simply said, "Nothing is ever too much for you."

Alex felt the wetness in her eyes as she took hold of his hand. "So, what's the occasion?"

He looked as if that was obvious, like she should have known. And Bobby told her with the same blatancy, "We're back together. There's nothing else worth celebrating."

Giving him a smile, one that was filled with love and warmth, she hoped he realized how loved she felt, how lucky she was that they were back together. Picking up the menu, she stared at it for a long moment before asking, "I hope you're not worried about paying."

Bobby chuckled as he leaned back, not even looking at his menu, and told her, "Get whatever you want. It's all on me tonight."

"I'm holding you to that because the steak I want costs fifty dollars, that's not including the side dish and wine." Alex glanced up at him and he still wasn't looking anywhere else but at her. Setting the menu down, she leaned on the table while asking, "Do you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that?"

"How am I looking at you?"

Alex shook her head but was smiling at his evasiveness. "What're you seeing that's making your eyes light up like that?"

Bobby's smile grew until he laughed a little. She noticed the redness that grew up his neck and she knew he was embarrassed, but that wouldn't stop him. It never did. "I'm seeing the most wonderful, most beautiful woman I've ever set my eyes on."

She had no response; nothing. Her breath caught as she stared right back at him, seeing the most amazingly brilliant, kindest, and genuine man she had ever set her eyes on. It was going to be a special evening, and she couldn't have been more grateful to be spending it with him.

A while later, Alex had to ask him if he was okay. Bobby didn't order much, ate just a salad and took a few bits of the steak and potatoes that were to die for. She noticed his quietness, the way he would glance up at her periodically while she did most of the talking, mostly about her family, Nathan, and what was going on with her.

When she asked, he nodded slightly as he took a sip of his second glass of red wine as he told her, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You're barely eating."

He looked down at his plate and shrugged a little. "I guess I'm having an off day." Bobby must of seen the worry she felt because he leaned forward, giving her a kiss on the lips, before saying again, "I'm fine, really. Just more interested in you than my meal."

Alex knew he was charming her so she wouldn't worry, and it was working. She was losing interest in the rest of her own meal as she watched him sit back and finish off his glass. Getting up, she took him by the hand and said, "I want a dance before we go."

Bobby stared up at her then around the room for the first time that night. She realized that he hadn't even noticed that there was a band playing in the corner or the fact that there was a dance floor.

They made their way to the dance floor as the song that had been playing ended and then as he took her hand in his, placing the other on the small of her back, the band started playing one of her favorites. It was Eric Clapton's _Wonderful Tonight. _"What a perfect song to end our wonderful evening," she told him as he rested his head against hers.

Smiling down at her, Bobby hummed his agreement as he moved her around the dance floor.

Resting her head against his chest, she closed her eyes and let herself take it all in. His breathing, heartbeat, warmth. The way he swayed into her, with her, as their bodies became one. Bobby, with his ever passion for singing, hummed along to the tune until it got to the bridge. She heard his soft baritone as he sung softly into her ear.

"I feel wonderful, because I see the love light in your eyes, and the wonder, of it all, is that you just don't realize how much I love, _you_."

Her hands fisted in his suit, holding him tight as the tears slipped from her eyes as he continued to move them effortless around the floor. Alex felt him tense suddenly as she started to tremble against him.

Bobby stopped his movement as he tilted his head down between them and asked, "Why're you crying?"

With a quivering hand, she wiped the tears away but she knew she had freaked him out by the tension that not only formed in his muscles but in his voice.

"Alex?" he asked again, this time more urgently.

Turning to look up at him, she saw the fear that darkened his eyes. Alex still couldn't get anything out of her dry mouth as she pulled him down and kissed him. Bobby was stunned at first before he gave into her, deepening the kiss, _in public_. She had forgotten where they were for a moment and she was shocked that he was even allowing her to kiss him that deeply, that passionately, in front of everyone in the restaurant who dared to look their way.

As she drew back, she felt him shaking again. His eyes were closed, his breathing was in short gasps, and he looked nearly frozen. Alex was shaking as well, but it wasn't from the kiss, even though it had been exceptional in her opinion, but from what he had said. She realized that Bobby didn't even realize what he had even said, and how it effected her. He had just been singing lyrics for crying out loud! But to her they had been more than that. To her, he had told her how he felt, that he loved her. She couldn't stop shaking and didn't know why.

Bobby, when he finally opened his eyes, was looking at her with concern and a slight sense of fear. He kept his hand her back as he lead them to the table. Easing her down into the chair, he asked, "Do you need anything? Water?"

Shaking her head, she finally got out, "I'm fine."

Bobby sat across from her, took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "What'd I do?"

"Huh?"

He was getting irritated, she could tell, but the concern was beating his annoyance as he asked again, "What did I do? Why did you start crying?"

"Oh," she breathed and that was when it was confirmed that he had no idea what he had done. Alex got her breathing under control, took a drink of the wine in her glass, and then looked back at him. "I think I overreacted to our dancing."

Bobby eyed her for a long moment, lost in confusion.

She wanted to laugh because maybe she had overreacted. They were just song lyrics, and he liked to sing, a lot, so maybe it didn't mean anything. He hadn't been thinking. Alex smiled a little as she finally told him, "It was the song, what you had sung to me…"

Bobby looked away, out the window, as he thought about that, about what he had sung on the dance floor. She saw it, the moment it clicked into his head and he froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

Alex knew that for him it was a normal response, but the hurt that hit her heart at the reaction stung none-the-less. She hoped he didn't say something stupid, take it back or…

"I'm sorry."

Alex tried to breathe but it wasn't working. "You're sorry?"

The look of guilt that caused him to eye the table would have sent another woman into a fury. All she felt was sympathy, and ultimately sorry for him. "I overreacted," she said again, this time trying to ease his guilt. "I should be the one apolog-"

"Don't apologize," he sternly told her. Looking up, Bobby said, "Don't ever apologize for, loving…being in love."

Alex was once again at a lose for words. She had no idea what he was thinking, what was going through his head, and she knew she never would. Not when he told her things like that while at the same time looking like he was guilty as hell for murder. If he didn't want her to apologize for her reaction, than why was he sorry? Why was he apologizing?

"I don't…" she stopped because question him would have gotten her nowhere. She didn't get him. She wasn't understanding, and she knew he wasn't going to try to explain himself. Giving it a moment's thought, she said instead, "Then don't apologize to me for it yourself."

Bobby stared over at her with that same look; he was once again lost. There was no comprehension in his eyes, only questioning, wondering, and restraint. "I'm not sorry for that," he finally told her. "I'm sorry that…that I didn't realize it when it happened. You, you knew and I didn't. I missed it. I said it, and I missed it."

Alex's vision blurred and she felt like hitting him, not out of hate or anger, but because he was really getting her overly emotional. He was breaking her heart. "Bobby…" she got out before shaking her head. That was all she could say.

"I'm screwing this up…"

"No," she said as she got up and went to him. Pulling him into a hug, Alex kissed him again. "Let's get out of here."

He didn't say anything as he looked across the room and waved the waiter over while she sat in his lap, holding him tight.

* * *

He wanted to do more than walk her into her apartment and kiss her good-night, but on the drive from Manhattan to Rockaway he had gotten a phone call. Garrison wanted to meet with him as soon as possible. He had to go all the way to Staten Island instead of being with Alex. The guilt he still felt with telling her he loved her and not even realizing it was radiating through him, ripping his heart out. He felt like a class A asshole even though he knew rationally he shouldn't have been.

It had been a great evening despite his screw-up, and it had helped to ease some of the stress that had been pushing him down lately. As he thought about leaving her for the evening, the worse he felt so it wasn't a surprise to him that his good-night kiss for Alex wasn't stopping. Bobby couldn't and didn't want to break the contact; he didn't want to leave. Her arms were around his neck, holding him to her as the kiss continued to deepen, to stretch on from seconds to minutes.

With feeling her movement against him, rubbing her leg along his, he decided that Garrison could wait. Lifting her leg up, he hooked it around his leg before running his palm from her knee, along her thigh, and to the inside of her hip.

Breaking the kiss to breathe, she asked, "I thought you had a meeting?"

"I do," he said as he looked into her passion-filled eyes. Bobby then lifted her up, hooking her other leg around him as he started for the bedroom. "I decided it could wait."

Suddenly pulling back, she said, "Couch."

"What?"

"Couch, couch, couch," she demanded as she kicked at the back of his thighs.

He couldn't help but laugh as he said, "Okay, I'm going, I'm going." As soon as he sat down, with her straddling him, he asked, "This good?"

Alex only smiled before filling his mouth once again with her talented tongue.

Two hours later he finally made it to Staten Island and to a very pissed off Officer Garrison. As soon as he got out of the his car in the old church parking lot, the man was livid.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I was with my girlfriend."

Garrison was taken back by his honesty but his reaction didn't change. "Speaking of which, how come you didn't tell me you were back with Detective Eames?"

"Because it's none of your business," Bobby said as he pulled out his gloves and put them on. It was freezing.

"It is my business when you're fucking one of the cops investigating you!"

His head snapped up at that and he felt like hitting the guy. How dare he reduce, and degrade, his relationship with Alex to a mere fuck. Bobby stepped up to the guy and told him as sternly as he could, "Don't you say that about my relationship with Eames ever again. Do you understand?"

That silenced the man for a good five seconds before he told him, "I wouldn't have to if you wouldn't piss me off. These are things I need to know. She's a liability."

"She's-"

"Can you handle her?"

Bobby stopped at that question. "Wh-what'd you mean handle her? She's going to go wherever it takes her, I'm not stopping that."

"Oh, really? So you're going to let her storm right into the middle of our operation and tear it down."

Bobby's fists clenched but he was able to control the anger that pulsed through him. "And why not? It's her case, and it was bound to plow right through ours. The Connelly case is connected, but I know that if and when she finds out I'm undercover on this, she'll ease off. She's not going to risk my life for that case."

Garrison only closed his eyes and shook his head. "Goren. This is supposed to be kept under wraps, and now not only could Eames find out, but you talked to Deakins."

Bobby froze for a moment, giving himself away. He knew, but of course Garrison knew. "I needed reassurance," he lamely defended himself.

That sent Garrison off again as he told him, "That wasn't your call to make. I told you that I'm your fucking God! Why are you running around on me? Do you want to screw this up!"

"You're not my fucking anything!" Bobby snapped. Garrison had pushed him, and he was really pissing him off. "You haven't given me shit to work with except planting more and more rumors out there about me. I'm dying here! And all you care about is whether or not I got word to the one man in the entire NYPD that I can trust?"

"You're supposed to be coming to me."

"I don't trust you!"

That silenced the both of them. Garrison stared hard at him and finally he held up his hands. "Fine. If that's how you feel, I can't change that, but we're in this together whether you like it or not. I'm your contact between everything. Between the good and the bad, between the Chief and your ass getting kicked back to patrol. So stop pushing me away. I'm the one pulling the strings, not you."

"Is that what you're trying to do? Pull my strings. Guess what, I'm not a puppet you son-of-a-bitch, and if one of those Goddamn strings break, I'm done for. So forgive me if I want to protect myself, to gain a little collateral to know that if it all goes to hell, I'll at least have someone going to bat for me."

"You think that I won't? If something goes wrong, or falls through, I'm the only one with proof clearing your name. I'm the only one out here who can stand up and say look! It was all me! Deakins can't give you that. Yeah, he can go to bat for you all day long, but unless he can present paperwork it won't mean shit. You know that."

Bobby breathed out and rubbed at his pounding head. Yeah, he knew that, but he also knew that he couldn't trust the word of a man he barely knew. A man that was holding too much leverage over him. A man that held his life and all the control in his hands.

"Bobby," Garrison said as he slowly approached him like he was a wild animal about to attack at any provocation. "I know you've got issues with trusting, I know that it's hard for you, especially to entrust so much of yourself to another man. All the male partners you've ever had, oil and water. From the time you were in the military to now, being commanded by a man…the trust took time. Took more than just words, empty promises. It was your father, right? And now your brother?"

"Shut-up," Bobby snapped as he stared at Garrison with a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Don't bring them into this," he demanded. If Garrison continued, all the words in the world couldn't stop him from taking him to the ground.

It was all true, he knew, but to have Garrison using that knowledge to play him, that was exactly the reason why he couldn't trust the IA officer. And now, with the feeling of having his defenses and his walls broken, it was getting harder to control his anger. To keep from feeling vulnerable.

When he felt vulnerable, he got anxious. And when he got anxiety he got angry and with that anger that was when he would snap. When he would try to regain some form of control back by attacking, either with words or if words didn't work he resorted back to the oldest form of aggression that plagued mankind: violence. It was every man's downfall no matter how civilized and educated they were. He understood better than most how under the pretense of chivalry there laid a beast.

Garrison seemed to back off as he stepped away from him. "You're going to have to trust me. Okay, Deakins now knows. I can deal with that, and yeah, maybe it's a good thing. He is in charge of Detective Eames and Copeland. It could be a good thing, if he thinks something might jeopardize you, then he'll try his best to steer the investigation. But the next time you think about doing something like that, you have to come to me first. Can you do that?"

Bobby took a deep, calming breath as he gave a slight nod. He didn't know if he was only agreeing to appease Garrison or if he meant it. He wasn't there yet, figuring out his motive as he scrambled through the halls of his mind, trying to find something, anything, that could help him.

Looking around, there was nothing. No light to guide him back, nothing solid he could hold onto while he was sinking. Bobby felt the panic throb in his mind, sending a wave of fear throughout his entire self. Turning back to Garrison, he saw the look that was in the other man's eyes. He was concerned but also a little afraid. Garrison didn't know how to handle him, what to think of him now.

Bobby felt like he was back to being that outsider again. The lone wolf with a badge that no one understood, that no one wanted to understand. "Are we done?"

Garrison gave him a nod. "Do you need anything? Wanna talk-"

"No," Bobby said as he turned and headed back to his car.

Garrison knew now not to stop him. He knew now that all those strings he thought he had on him were all figments in his imagination along with the delusion that he was the one in control.

There was no controlling him. Bobby Goren had always been a man who walked alone, even when he wasn't.

TBC…


	19. He's the man with the plan

"This night. This fucking night."

Logan was referring to the fact that it was Tuesday night. Like he had forgotten the significance of it. Bobby looked over at him and saw the stern look in his partners eyes as he said it over again.

He let Logan have his moment of uncertainty as he looked back out the window at the house that Raymond Bradley lived in. He felt no uncertainty. Maybe it was from experience, or an egotistical thought that he was right and good and nothing was going to take this from him. Whatever it was, he wasn't afraid. He couldn't be. If he failed at this, he would be a dead man. For him to be afraid, to have doubts, would be for him to make mistakes. His confidence was going to be what got him through the night. Not fear. The game was nothing to be afraid of if he knew how to play it right.

And it was all a game to him, and in that game there were rules. Rules he had established for himself many years ago. To do this job right, and to do what he needed to get done, there were a few rules he had to break because he had no other choice. Logan was uncertain because he had never worked Narcotics. He had never been on the receiving end of a drug deal, and he had never dealt with the fear that came along with breaking up a drug deal. Anything could happen. The house they barged in on could be a meth lab, exposing them to harmful toxins, the air of death. Or dealers and buyers so gone on their own supply that they wouldn't hesitate to open fire on anything moving.

Knowing exactly what existed in that house, knowing who was going to be in it and who was going to be the detectives to come in after them helped to smother the uncertainty and fear. All he could think about were the specifics. The rules of the game. The motivations, the needs of the corrupt cops that he had to manipulate. The sense of friendship and loyalty he had to not only give but get. To entrust these cops with his own secrets and lies and with all that his life.

To be believed. That was his main purpose tonight, on this night; he had to sell himself. His ability to be believed got him twenty-seven arrests along with just as many convictions while running three undercover operations during his four year stint in Narcotics. This territory was familiar ground. The mask he had to wear was one he had tried on so many times before that it no longer scared him.

What he was capable of never ceased to amaze him. His ability to be anyone, think like anyone, made him perfect for this type of work. He never bothered to figure out the why. He never tried to figure out his own pathology as to why he never had a problem empathizing with anyone so well that he could be comfortable being, acting, like that person. As long as it came with an conviction, with an arrest, with the guilty going down, he would continue to do it for as long as he could. He had taken that determination through many years in the service, through his days as a patrol officer, and through the long and daunting years with Narcotics and he would take it with him for the rest of his career in law enforcement.

Brenda was right when she called him a lion. When it came to this game he was an over-confident, stubborn, determined, and resilient lion ready to attack and take down all those who destroyed, who killed, who used others for their own evil deeds.

"Should we go in now?"

Bobby blinked a few times as he stopped thinking to look over at Logan. Mike cut the engine and putting the keys in his pocket. "Are you ready?"

Logan smiled a little as he opened the door. "Of course. As long as you do all the talking I think we just might be able to pull this off."

* * *

"I'm just saying that I don't like this."

"We have to do something and we both know he's not telling us everything."

Alex sat in the car with the heat on full blast as she tried to warm up. They were parked a block down the road from the car they were watching. She hadn't seen Bobby all day. Last night he had gone home instead of coming back out to Rockaway, and then they were both at work, and now. "Yeah, I know, but they're on a stakeout. What are we going to learn by watching two cops watching a house? That they're good at surveillance?"

Copeland looked over at her at that question with irritation of his own. "C'mon, you heard what Detective Travis said, the only active case they got, besides Sullivan's unsolved, is a serial murder. It has nothing to do with the drug dealer they're watching."

Alex turned away from her partner as she went back to observing the car because there wasn't much else to do. "It might be connected-"

"Why are they getting out?"

She stopped defending Bobby and Logan as she watched as the two of them got out of the car and head up the sidewalk. Logan trailed behind Bobby as he looked around the neighborhood. Bobby, on the other hand, was stalking toward the front of the house like a man on a mission. Reaching the door, she watched as he pounded on the door while it looked as if Logan was taking a stance as his bodyguard.

"What's going on here, Goren?" she asked herself as the door opened and she and Copeland watched as they disappeared inside.

"I hate to say what I think is going on here."

She looked over at Copeland but didn't say anything as she opened the door and got out.

"Eames!"

Alex didn't respond as she went up on the sidewalk and started down the street. She heard Harry get out and start to follow her.

Coming up beside her, he asked, "And just what are you planning on doing?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything except take a look in the car."

"You're breaking into the car?"

Alex smirked over at Copeland as she sarcastically told him, "Yeah, because that's legal. I'm just looking in the car."

Copeland nodded a little before telling her, "Act like you're trying to get away from me, like we just had a fight."

Alex glanced over at him. "A lovers spat?"

"Whatever, just stop walking next to me."

She pulled away from him as he tried to touch her on the arm. Going out into the empty street, Alex held up her hands. "I'm not in the mood, Harry. Back off."

Copeland followed her into the street as they advanced on the parked car. "C'mon, baby, don't be like that."

Alex suddenly wanted to laugh at him for calling her that but they had a job to do. "Baby! I'm not your baby anymore, not after I heard you calling that piece of trash that."

"Hey," Copeland said as he lightly grabbed her and backed her up against the car that Bobby and Logan had been sitting in. "I said I was sorry," he softly told her before looking over her shoulder into the car. "What were you hoping to find?"

"Anything. Evidence of surveillance," she said as she turned her head away from his when he acted like he was going to kiss her. Looking into the car, she didn't see anything in it except for two cups of coffee from a place called Marco's. "He doesn't have his binder with him."

"His binder?"

"Yeah," she said as she turned back to Copeland. "Bobby always takes his binder with him everywhere. I didn't see it in his hands when he went into the house and it isn't in the car. That means he never had it with him. He's not working surveillance."

"Then that brings us back to what are they doing here."

Alex nodded a little before pushing him away and heading back toward the car. "Follow after me, but slowly."

"Anything you say, baby."

She had to laugh and shake her head at that. Copeland could be a very funny guy.

* * *

"So this guy Max was going nuts you know. Knocking back Hennessey's like water and hitting the smack every other minute. He was out of his mind by the time we showed. He was talking this crazy shit about UFO's over the city and how he was going to hunt them down, the aliens, and kill every last one of them. I asked Max what the aliens looked like and get this, he said they looked like the homeless people all around the city. I knew that he was gone. He was talking about killing all the homeless people, wipe them out like they were nothing. So me and Alan, we decided not to deal to the guy if he was going to kill people while he was on it. We didn't want that kind of shit on our conscience you know. Knowing it was our shit the guy got high on before he went out and started a murder spree."

Ray wouldn't stop talking. The guy had been pacing the floor while talking a mile a minute ever since they arrived. Not only was Ray nervous but he could tell that Ray was also high on cocaine. He watched as the dealer stopped talking for a split second to take a quick puff off the cigarette that was hanging loosing in his right hand before he continued on with the story.

Bobby glanced over at Logan who was leaning up against the wall and staring at Ray as he wore a path in the floor. Rubbing at his head, he felt the headache that was throbbing at his temples. He hadn't been feeling so good since yesterday; it felt like he was getting a cold or something. Instead of taking something for it, he thought he could use it. With his irritation, itchy red eyes, and sore throat along with the environment he was sitting in at the moment it wouldn't be hard to sell his story that he was a corrupt cop looking for drugs. At the moment it could quite possibly look like he had tried some of the coke that was smeared on the table in front of him.

The small house was a block from the industrial area and fishing docks. If he closed his eyes and concentrate he could smell the iron scent that hung around the area from the boats. It wasn't a pleasant smell, but this wasn't a pleasant neighborhood. Half the people on the street slept during the day and was awake at night prowling for their next fix, for the next vessel to escape their miserable lives whether it was drugs, alcohol, sex or all three.

"…then this one number, she was sexy as hell. She came over and started calming Max down by giving him a lap dance. Oh, you should have seen the body on her-"

"Ray!" Both Logan and Ray turned his way, staring at him with wide-eyes at his sudden bellow. Bobby glared up at the guy as he said, "If you don't shut the fuck up and sit down I'm gonna shoot you."

Ray snapped his mouth shut as his right hand started to shake as he reluctantly sat in the recliner by the window. The window had a thick bedspread hanging over it to block the sunlight from coming into the house during the day. It was darker than hell in the house at night even with the lamplight turned on.

Closing his eyes as he felt the cold chill that suddenly rocked his body, he relished in the silence that followed. His head was on fire and he couldn't listen to Ray's ridiculous story any longer. He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead then wiped his neck that was coating in sweat. Okay, it wasn't just a cold. He was certain he was coming down with the flu. He would deal with taking care of his health in the morning; right now he had a job to do.

"Hey, Bobby, join me in the kitchen."

He peered over at Logan who pushed off the wall and headed toward the small kitchen. Getting up off the sofa, he heard it squeak a little before following. As soon as he entered the kitchen, Logan took a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator and handed it to him.

Reluctantly he took the bottle of Miller Lite and twisted the cap off. He didn't like the taste of American made beer but it was all Ray had. Taking a sip, he groaned at the flavor before leaning against the counter.

"You look like death. Are you feeling okay?"

Bobby gave a slight nod as his head pounded. "I'm fine, just a headache."

"Why don't you take something for it. I'm sure Ray's got-"

"No-no, I'm good, really. Plus, I think I need the edginess to sell this thing."

Logan chuckled and shook his head. "Just take some Tylenol. It takes about an hour for that stuff to kick in anyway."

"I will, okay, but after this is over."

Logan took a sip of the beer before nodding. "I'll hold you to that." Looking at his watch he informed him, "It's ten thirty-four."

Bobby nodded and he would have checked his own watch to verify the time but as it were he didn't have one. "Garrison called, uh…about five minutes ago. Said he spotted Stapleton and Jules a few blocks over. If they're coming after us, it'll be any minute."

* * *

Alex glanced at the clock again; it was ten thirty-four and Bobby had been in the house for twenty minutes. When she looked back to the house her breath caught in her throat. "Harry."

Copeland looked up from texting on his cell. "What-"

She watched as two men, one with a battering ram and another with a shotgun approached the front of the house from the side. "Look at their vests, they're cops." Alex couldn't believe what she was seeing. "This is getting out of hand. Are Bobby and Logan helping with a drug bust?"

"Funny, I was thinking the exact opposite."

Alex threw a glare over to Copeland before returning her attention back to the house. Looking over the street, she saw something else out of the ordinary. "Who's that?" she said as she pointed down the block on the other side of the street.

"All I see is a car."

"No, look, there's someone watching from inside the car. I can see the glow from his cigarette."

"The backup guy, or the get away driver."

Alex grabbed the camera and started taking pictures, focusing on the man down the block in the car. "I guess we'll see once this all plays out who is who."

"And there he is."

She turned her attention back to the house as Bobby walked out on the porch and lit a cigarette. "I thought he quit."

Copeland looked over at her and chuckled. "Is that all you're worried about? His smoking habit?"

She shook her head. He didn't know when to stop; when he was taking it too far. And she wasn't just talking about Harry Copeland.

* * *

After lighting the cigarette, he stood on the steps, slowly smoking it, as he kept his head down while his eyes took in everything around him. The houses, the lights that were on and the ones that were off, the street corners and the shadows in-between the houses and in the parked cars. As he glanced down the block he spotted a familiar car. Garrison was watching and making sure he was getting all the evidence he could against the corrupted cops. The IA officer was probably taking pictures of him right now.

Other than that, there was nothing he could see that was out of the ordinary. Yet, what he heard was a different matter. In the silence he heard something, a soft 'click'. Looking to his left, he held his breath as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness and then he saw it coming from around the corner of the house. The exhale of a breath in the cold air.

This was usually when a person, a normal person, in his position would run. The panic and the innate instinctive fight or flight response to fear would kicked in and they would run. He didn't feel the urge to fight nor flight. What kicked in his brain and body was a strong sense of propelled curiosity and the thrill of the game. He even smiled a little as he took a drag off the cigarette before dropping it to the concrete step and used his shoe to put it out.

As soon as he dropped the cigarette from his left hand, he immediately swiped it to his side, grabbing his gun and making sure he had moved his overcoat back far enough that it exposed his detective shield. Taking his gun slowly out of the holster, he kept his eyes on the side of the house and the white clouds of exhaled breathing as he moved back toward the door.

Once inside he barely had enough time to warn Ray before he was across the room and behind a wall as the door splintered open from the force of the battering ram. They had pulled out all the punches for this job if they were using a fucking battering ram. Logan was behind him with his gun trained on the backdoor as he trained his on the men who came through the front.

He then heard the backdoor being given the same treatment at the same time Ray screamed and did the most craziest thing he had ever seen someone try to do. He tried to jump out the window while the damn glass was down and the thick bedspread was still covering it. The guy didn't make it as he hit the table that was under it and only got his arm through the shattered glass before he was grabbed and thrown to the floor.

Bobby didn't even know why Ray had tried to bail except for the simple fact that for the drug dealing cokehead running from the police was his most innate instinct. Ray was one of those people who took flight in a panic.

The cops that had barged through the front door was Stapleton along with a third man he didn't recognize. That meant that Logan was training his gun on Jules in the kitchen. They were lucky, they knew both Stapleton and Jules, having met them while investigating a murder of a dealer in November. The partners had helped lead them to a gang member that was responsible for the shooting.

Stapleton was holding a shotgun on Ray while the other cop had his gun aimed on the wall he was standing behind. He briefly wondered what Jules had aiming at Logan before he took a deep breath and said with as much calmness as he could gather, "Hey, Stapleton."

That caused Stapleton to look up toward him and at spotting who it was asked in surprise, "Goren?"

"You know this guy?" the third man asked as he held his ground.

Stapleton looked down at Ray before answering as he looked back to him, "He's a cop. Works Homicide. That Logan with you?"

"How's it going Stapleton? Jules are you going to drop that fucking shotgun?" Logan asked with an aria of frustration and anger.

Bobby wanted to laugh but his head was really killing him now. He could barely concentrate on not pulling the trigger.

"Are you two here getting information?" Stapleton asked as he moved away from Ray to get closer to him. "Young drop the gun, I doubt Goren's gonna shoot us."

Bobby only lowered his gun after Young lowered his. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked back and saw that Jules had lowered his weapon as well. Logan moved into the kitchen while he moved into the living room. Ray was trembling on the floor and from the stench that hit the air and his nose, he knew that the guy had urinated on himself. "You scared the piss out of him, man."

That got a laugh from the narc as he looked down at Ray on the floor. "Get up you piece of shit."

Ray stumbled to his feet before backing himself up into the table and jumping at his own clumsiness.

"Ray," Bobby told him, "sit."

Ray sat hard in the recliner and leaned at his waist to cover his front up; the man was a mess.

Bobby shook his head and rubbed at it before holstering his gun. "Uh, what're you doing here?" he asked instead of answering.

Stapleton gave him a weird look before gesturing over the table. "Making a bust on a drug deal. This guy involved in a murder?"

Bobby didn't answer as he looked back toward the kitchen. He knew that he had to play this right; he couldn't just come out and say that he knew what they were really there for and he was after the same thing. From where they stood, they all thought they were all on the right side of the law. "Yeah, he, uh…He's involved in this case we've got."

Stapleton nodded a little before looking around. "Well, shit. It looks like we crashed our own investigations, huh?"

Bobby smiled a little but he nervously looked to the coffee table full of drugs, money, and his beer. "Seems, uh, th-that, uh, yeah, it looks that way." He saw the sudden suspicion in Stapleton's eyes and he knew he was baiting the cop. "Hey, uh, we're not trying to stop you guys, from, uh, you know, taking this guy down…" he trailed off as something hit him before asking, "You said you were here to make a bust on a drug deal?" He looked back toward the kitchen again and saw Logan standing in the doorway; Mike was partly shadowed in the hallway but he was ready.

Stapleton looked blindsided by that as he looked to Young for help. The younger detective only shrugged in answering. "We…I meant that…"

Before Stapleton could finish Bobby pulled his gun and from the look on Young's face Logan had his gun out as well. Stapleton couldn't do anything as he stepped up to him and stripped him of the shotgun and tossed it across the room. They had the cops right where they wanted them, on the other side of the barrel having to explain themselves. Having to confess as to why they were there.

"You heard about our, uh, deal, right? That's what you were busting up," he stated as he took a glance to Ray. "Who, uh…who tipped you off?"

Stapleton swallowed hard but his eyes gave him away as he also looked to Ray. "Goren, cool it. We're on the same side here."

"We're on the same side? And what side would that be because right now you're thinking that the deal that was going down was between us. Ray, Logan…me."

"Now, listen," Stapleton was rushing to try to keep this from going any further. "Ray did tip us off," he confirmed for them, but that they already knew. They had told Ray to tip them off. "But, fuck, Goren, this isn't what it looks like."

Bobby stepped back a little, giving the cop some room as he asked, "Oh? Then what does it look like to you?"

"It's, this isn't even official," he declared. "Look outside, there are no cars, no police vehicles in sight. Only us three. C'mon, you worked Narcotics, when you make a bust you've got at least ten guys backing you and maybe even SWAT."

"He's right, Goren," Logan finally spoke. "It seems that Ray tipped us off to a bunch of crooked cops. Pretty fucking ironic."

Bobby made a show of thinking that over as he continued to train his weapon on Stapleton. He saw Logan moving off to his side and when he looked he saw the anger in his partner right before Logan drew back and then hit Ray with the butt of the shotgun. That was why the blood had drained from Young's face. "Logan!"

"He sold us out the-"

Bobby watched as Logan hit Ray again. "Goddamn it! Now isn't the fucking time, Mike."

"Hey," Stapleton said as he held up his hands. "Keep the shotgun, take my gun, take Young's, I don't give a shit," he was bargaining with him now. He was scared to death trying to save his own ass. "We're not going to do anything here. I'm mean, shit…" he groaned as he walked over to the table and looked at it. "We came here to rip this guy off, Goren. How 'bout we figure something out, okay? You put the guns down, and we'll think about this."

Bobby took a moment to consider that before he finally lowered the gun but didn't re-holster it. So far, it was playing out as planned but he had to be prepared for anything. Going over to the table, he picked up his beer and took a small sip of it before telling Logan. "Stop beating Ray and watch these guys." As he started for the kitchen, he asked over his shoulder, "Anyone want a beer?"

"Yeah."

"What kind?"

Bobby glanced back at Young who asked that and shook his head. "Logan?"

"I could use another."

As he entered the kitchen, he saw Jules on the floor unconscious. Logan had knocked the cop out. Going over to Jules, he shook the guy until he stirred. "You awake? Jules, wake up, man."

Jules blinked back in confusion before jerking and reaching for his gun that wasn't on his hip. "Where's…What's going on here, Goren? Why did-"

"Calm down, it's all okay. Need help up?"

The cop was cautious of him at first but then he didn't protest as he helped him to his feet. Jules swayed slightly as he rubbed at his face and head. "That partner of yours hits like a girl," he joked as he groaned in pain from where Logan had hit him.

Bobby laughed a little as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out five beers and handed a few to Jules. "We got a problem, Jules." The cop only looked at him as he took the beers from him. "It seems that, uh…that we're all here for the same thing."

Jules eyed him for a long moment as the shock took over the fear. "And I thought it was all rumor."

"What's that?" Bobby asked as he started for the living room.

"That you turned."

Bobby smiled a little before dropping it as he reentered the living room. Both Young and Stapleton were seated on the sofa, Ray was still in the recliner but nursing a sore face and stomach from where Logan had hit him with the shotgun, and Logan was once again standing against the wall. Handing him a beer, he gave him a wink before turning to their company.

Stapleton took a big gulp of the beer before he rubbed at the beard growth on his cheek. "I can't believe this. You two really are on our side."

"We are? Because you were talking about ripping us off few minutes ago. That's not very friendly, now is it?"

"You're definitely something else, Goren," Stapleton said as he glanced over the table. "How much is here?"

Bobby sat the beer down on the table before holstering his gun. He went over and grabbed a chair from the dining table. After putting it down in front of the coffee table, he sat facing the Narcotic detectives as he went over what they had. "Ten thousand in cash, thirty more in coke."

"Forty thousand in all. Not bad."

He twisted the cap off the bottle and tossed it on the table before taking a sip of the awful beer. He leaned back in the chair, getting comfortable, while Logan stood behind him like a bulldog of a bodyguard with the shotgun. The image of that caused him to smile a little. He was taken back to his days, and nights, working undercover with the very squad he was about to negotiate a drug deal with. It all caused his stomach to twist and turn with acid. The beer barely helped the pain in his head but he knew now that the cops were settled down enough to where they were seeing him as a man like them, or maybe a man worse off than they were.

Bobby nodded as he glanced over to Ray who was on the verge of passing out. "Ray was a good contact, until he betrayed us."

Stapleton took a look at Ray before telling him, "You know, Alan Cohen always claimed that a bag of money was stolen off him by the two murder police who arrested him."

Bobby only stared at the cop, not giving anything away.

"We all thought it was bullshit because we knew it was you and Logan who pinched him. Now look at us. How long have you two been running this?"

Bobby only offered up a simple, "A while." He knew Stapleton wanted him to say something but he wasn't going to be the one to set this in motion. He wanted it to be Stapleton's idea that they work together; he needed him to be the one to bring it up.

Stapleton finished off the beer and looked to the two other cops sitting beside each other on the sofa. "We can either walk away from this fellas, or…" he said as he looked back at him, "we can work something out."

Bobby sat still for a moment, pretending to be shocked or surprised, put-off, before leaning slightly forward. "Work something out? What makes you think we can, or want, to trust you with any of this?"

"Because, now that your guy has betrayed you, you might need our help, our contacts, and…" Stapleton smiled a little before saying, "Our protection."

"Uh-huh, and what makes you think you can trust us?"

"That's where we invest in a, well, in an act of comradely."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at him as he asked, "What kind of act of comradely?"

"We take of Ray for you-"

"Take care of? You mean kill him?"

"Yeah, we'll kill Ray, and all you have to do is make sure nothing from it touches us. As for what's on this table…We get the money, you keep all the drugs."

Bobby chuckled a little as he sat back and closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head. "Let me get this straight, I let you take the only clean thing here, the money, along with the only witness to take care of him for me. How do I even know you're going to off the son-of-a-bitch and not let him walk? And to show me a form of trust, I get a bunch of coke I can't get sold because I've got no seller? So, while I'm trying to find someone I can trust with getting this powder turned into cash, I get busted in on by the drug squad, right? Is that what you're trying to sell me, Stapleton? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"That's paranoid thinking, Goren. No ones going to bust in on you. I don't think you're stupid, I-"

"You must if you think I'm gonna let you just walk away with what's rightfully ours and the only thing binding us is a would-be, could-be murder rap. You've got some balls, man, I tell ya."

"Oh, come off it. I'm the one taking on the murder rap and you can get all this coke off your hands by noon tomorrow. And if you can't than maybe you shouldn't be trying to run your own-"

"I'm not trying to run anything. I'm just trying to get what's mine while figuring out how to get us out of this fucking predicament we've found ourselves in. I've got shit I've got to take care of, so does Mike. That money is ours. How 'bout we take the cash, and half the coke…"

"Fuck that," Young suddenly shouted as he stood. "It's your own fault that your guy betrayed you. Why should you keep-"

"Young, calm down and sit down," Stapleton ordered. "Or else you're not getting a cut."

That caused the cop to eye Stapleton as he sat back down. Bobby was getting the sense that Stapleton was in charge and that Young was fairly new to what was going on. He took a long drink of the beer as he waited for the cops to settle down.

Turning to him, Stapleton leveled him with a sincere look as he said, "What we're having here, Goren, is a failure to communicate."

"No, what we have here is a failure to _negotiate_." Bobby knew how to talk this talk better than anyone; he'd negotiated himself into and out of just about every situation he had been thrown into on and off the job. He leaned forward as he strictly told Stapleton, "I'm done negotiating. This is how it's going to go down. I'll take care of Ray myself that way I know it gets done and we take an even share of everything. That makes your hands just as dirty as ours. There's ten in cash, right? You take five, we take five, and we split the bricks of coke."

After a long moment, Stapleton actually smiled before shaking his head. "I was offering to give you thirty thousand in coke, and you negotiated yourself into twenty because you're paranoid about not getting the shit out of your hands fast enough?"

"It's a good thing to be paranoid about, don't you think? Besides, you're the drug squad, I bet you could get all this off your hands by noon tomorrow, it'll at least take me a week."

"I'll be damned. They were right about you," Stapleton told him as he held out his hand for him.

Bobby hesitated for a moment, giving a quick glance to Logan, before accepting the offer of partnership. "Who was right about me?"

"The guys in Homicide. They told me to beware of Robert Goren, he's the man with the plan."

He dropped the hand as he pulled the pack of cigarettes Ray had given him out of his pocket. "Always," Bobby said as he lit a cigarette before looking over his shoulder to Logan who only gave him a small smile and nod.

Logan then called out, "Ray, go change your pants. I don't want you stinking up my car." Ray slowly got to his feet before hustling down the hall to the bedroom. He followed after him.

"I wasn't too surprised with you, with all the rumors that have been circling around, but Logan?"

Bobby stood and finished off the beer before telling Stapleton, "As it turns out, Mike hasn't been strictly on the up-and-up for a long time. He just always kept it quiet, never really going any further than taking some stuff off suspects, you know. After I caught him letting some things slide that I was doing, I realized we could get something going."

"Huh, kind of wished he would have made his presence to us known sooner, he couldn't gotten his hands on some serious money for years."

"How much you talking about?"

Stapleton smiled slyly at him while telling him, "A couple of houses, boats, and all the fucking BMW's you'd like. You sure you can handle Ray?" he asked while taking a black duffel bag Jules had brought in with him.

"Stapleton, I've worked more murder cases than you've read about. If there's anything I can get away with, this is it. I know more than a few tricks."

"I'm sure you do. I knew you were a crazy son-of-a-bitch, Goren."

Bobby stopped moving as he eyed Stapleton. He wondered what the cop was talking about and why he thought he was crazy but he didn't have time to get sensitive now. He had just informed a corrupt cop that he had no problem killing a man after he had negotiated a drug deal. Maybe he was crazy. Looking around the table, he announced, "I'm gonna need a bag."

"We've got an extra one."

Bobby took the other black duffel bag Jules had and thanked him. They did come prepared to take whatever was awaiting them. After splitting up the drugs and money, Bobby put it all in the bag before taking his empty beer bottle into the kitchen and rinsing it out along with all the others him and Logan handled. Putting the beer bottles in the bag as well, he wasn't taking any chances of their DNA and fingerprints being found in that house.

He then wiped down the refrigerator handle before going into the living room and wiping down the chair he had touched.

"You really are paranoid."

"And so should you," Bobby told him as he picked up the bag. "How do you think I haven't been caught yet? I clean up."

Stapleton nodded at him again before shaking his head. "I think we're gonna have a good time together. So far, you're a hell of a lot better at this than Young."

"I heard that," Young told him as he opened the front door. "We going or are you going to get him off first?"

"Forget you," Stapleton bit back before following Young and Jules out of the house.

Bobby waited until Ray and Logan existed before wiping down the door handle and then closing it as far as it would go. The door wasn't going to shut all the way after being beat nearly off the hinges. After wiping down the handle on the outside of the door, he used the handkerchief to pick up the cigarette he had put out on the steps.

* * *

Alex felt distant, like she wasn't completely attached to herself as she watched the cops leave and then following right behind them were Logan and Bobby along with a guy she didn't recognize but knew had to be the dealer. What shocked her and made her feel the disconnection was what they were carrying.

Another cop had joined the party and he was carrying a shotgun while the second guy was carrying the battering ram. The third cop along with Bobby were carrying black bags with them. Logan for some reason also had a shotgun that he didn't have when he entered the house, and Bobby was hanging back by the door, cleaning it off.

She watched as the cops went back the way they came, down the side of the house and disappeared behind the fence into the backyard. Bobby watched them go before heading to the car. Logan opened the back passenger door and held it open for the dealer to get in. Once the guy was in the back, he closed the door and then unlocked the trunk. He put the shotgun in the trunk and then Bobby put in the black bag.

The partners exchanged some words with each other before getting back into the car, Logan took the driver's seat while Bobby got in the back with the dealer. The odd thing was, Alex thought as she started the car to follow them, was that the dealer wasn't handcuffed.

"Are we following?"

"You're damn right we are."

"Hold up," Copeland said as he stopped her. "I think one of us should follow while the other checks out the house."

"Check the house? We can do that after we see where they go. They're not going to double-back here."

Copeland thought about that for a moment before agreeing. "You're right, we shouldn't split up now. Let's go."

* * *

They had barely left the neighborhood when Bobby felt his cell phone vibrate. It wasn't his regular cell but the one Garrison had given him. "Goren."

"You've been made."

He froze as he looked behind him out the back window and saw what Garrison was talking about. They were being followed. "Uh, who is it?"

Garrison was quiet for a moment before telling him, "Your girlfriend and her partner."

Bobby closed his eyes as he felt the tension in his head increase. "Shit," he breathed out.

"You're damn right shit. I told you this was going to happen."

"Hey, if it's not them then it would be two other detectives working the Connelly case. This is what it's all about, they know I haven't been completely honest with what I know."

"And now they just witnessed your little extra curricular activities."

Bobby shook his head at the IA officer before telling him, "And? Look, they don't know what they just witnessed. After they see what we do with Ray, they're not going to know what to think."

"You told me you can handle her."

"I can, and I am. She's smart, Garrison, she was going to figure it out sooner or later whether she was working the case or not."

"And what about her partner?"

"He's harmless, and I think she'll have no problem handling him. They'll back off, as long as we all get what we want, they won't be any trouble."

There was a long moment of silence and Bobby was afraid that the line had gone dead or been cut off before he heard Garrison sigh on the other end.

"I'm trusting you with this, Goren. All right, I'll leave it alone for now, but if I suspect that they could cause some serious trouble for this operation I'll have no choice but to step in."

Bobby nodded into the phone. "I understand. That all?"

"Yeah, that's all."

Once he ended the call, Bobby looked over at Ray who was seated next to him. "You're doing the right thing, Ray."

"I know," he told him as he looked out the window. "I'm ready to get this over with."

"That's good." Bobby glanced to the car that was still following them and knew that it was Alex driving. He unconsciously scratched at his chest, around the wire that was taped to it. Unless he wore a shirt from now on when he and Alex had sex, the missing chest hair he had to shave to tape down the surveillance microphone was going to be a dead give away. Smiling a little, he said a little more sarcastically and to himself, "That's real good."

* * *

"I don't get it."

Alex glanced over at Copeland as he said that. "I do; he's not corrupted, Harry. I know him better than anyone. It's not in Bobby to sell his soul. He can pretend he has in order to get the job done, but at the end of the day he's a good cop, a good man." She turned her attention back to the scene before them.

Logan had took them for a long ride; they had left Staten Island and went all the way into Brooklyn where he pulled up in front of a police department and dropped the dealer off. Bobby had gotten out as well and walked the guy into the precinct. Minutes later, Bobby walked back out alone and got into the car.

"The guy wasn't even handcuffed. He went willingly to jail, in Brooklyn? I don't…This doesn't make any sense."

Alex smiled a little at Copeland's frustration. "Welcome to the world of Goren. It can get very confusing, but it all has a purpose. I promise."

Copeland glared over at her, making her laugh a little as she pulled out into traffic. "You still want to go all the way back to Staten Island to take a look at the house?"

She heard him give a deep sigh of irritation before telling her, "No. It's late and I just want to go home."

"Now you're talking." Alex watched as Logan turned at the corner, heading back toward the interstate while she went straight at the light, heading toward Manhattan and One Police Plaza.

* * *

Bobby was only feeling slightly better as he entered his house and closed the door behind him. Giving into Logan's constant nagging, he took a few Tylenol pills before leaving the department and by the time he was halfway across the bridge to Brooklyn his headache went away. His pain and soreness and the overall feeling of being sick was still there. A series of cold chills ravished his body during the drive and he had thought he was going to get sick a few times before he made it home.

Opening the cabinet above the sink, he pulled down his bottle of Tylenol and downed a few more with a glass of water before heading into the bedroom. The living room was empty and Elliot's truck had once again not been outside. Elliot was spending less and less time at his place and more time elsewhere.

The car he did see parked on the street was one that made him smile for the second time that night. Alex was there. He was proven right when he opened the door to his bedroom and saw her sitting up in his bed reading one of his magazines. "Hey, baby."

Alex smiled wide at him as she tossed the magazine down. "You're the second person to call me that tonight."

That caused him to stop undressing for a brief moment. Pulling his dress shirt all the way off, he tossed it near the closet while he kicked off his shoes and left his black t-shirt on. Alex was laughing at his shock. She was messing with him. He went over to the dresser as he undid his belt and emptied his pockets. "So, you missed me so much you had to come all the way out here to see me?"

"Your place is on my way home. And, yes, I did miss you. How was your night?"

Bobby glanced behind him as he sat his wallet next to his cell phone. Was she testing him? Or teasing him? He knew that she knew what he had done tonight, but she didn't know that. For all she knew, he hadn't known she was there. What a game they were playing now. "A night. It was, interesting, to say the least."

"Catch a lot of bad guys?"

He smiled a little as he pulled his pants off and left them where they fell; he wasn't interested in being tidy at the moment. He was hurting and he was starting to feel another cold chill shiver up his spine.

"Are you okay?"

Bobby shook his head as he crawled into bed and rested his head on her lap.

Her hand ran over his face and up to his forehead. "Bobby, you're on fire. Did you take anything?"

"Four Tylenol. Two at work and two when I got here. I'm…I think I got the flu."

"Here," she told him as she rolled him onto his back and covered him with the blanket.

"I thought you have to bring my temperature down, not up."

"Don't be a smartass. I'm going to get you some water and make you some soup."

"Don' need soup, all I need's you," he told her as he grabbed her by the hips to keep her from leaving the bed.

Alex lightly shoved him away so not to hurt his head while leaning down to kiss him. "You're sick, and I'm not going to let you infect me. I'm going to make sure that by tomorrow morning you're going to feel a thousand times better."

Bobby smiled slightly as he felt his eyes close from the bout of exhaustion that overtook him. He wasn't going to be able to put up a fight as he felt weak and tired.

"I'll be right back with the water and I'm going to put the soup on low so I can run down the street to the store and pick up some stuff." Alex gave him one last kiss before getting up, saying, "I'll be back in a jiff."

"Ya know that jiff's short for jiffy an' it means a second, a minute, or moment. It'll take you longer than any of those Eames."

He heard her laughing all the way down the hall. Bobby would have smiled at her amusement but he was already half asleep before she left the room. Closing his eyes, he shook a few times against the chills before drifting off to a light, troubled, sleep. Dreams that were plagued by swirling light, harshly pained voices, and darkness. A lot of darkness, voids that went deep into the crevasse of the abyss.

Through it all, he still felt warm, safe, as a touch would calm and ease him back into something peaceful between the moments of panic and fear. Then he would hear her voice, cutting through the shadows of sleep, telling him to do something. He tried, he really did, but he was in so much pain and all he wanted to do was sleep until it went away.

He barely remembered waking, and eating the soup she had made, and drinking the Gatorade and the water she had gotten him before he was asleep again.

_There was a greenish white light, streaming across the floor from somewhere hidden in the darkness that surrounded him. He stared at him as he was momentary frozen to at the very sight of it. It looked foreign, like something out of an old sci-fi movie he'd seen as a kid. Moving closer, it seemed like he would never be able to reach it. The more the walked, the further it seemed to get. Feeling his chest started to quake with his rapid breathing, he stilled as he reached out, letting the light illuminate his hand. The moment he did it, something off in the dark started to rumble. The ground below him, the air around him, the body that protected him, all of it started to tremble. It felt like something was stabbing him, twisting it around and then pulling it, pulling him, right along with it. __The pain was excruciating; he doubled over, holding his stomach as he hit his knees while everything around him started to fall. The light was breaking through, growing and glowing bright and strong, nearly blinding him…_

He woke with a gasp of strained air cutting through his chest as his lungs opened. The room was bright and it burned at his eyes as he clenched them shut. There was something hard under him and he was freezing, shivering against it.

"Bobby, it's okay. Are you awake? Bobby?"

Alex's voice drew him out of his pain, out of his sleepiness. He went to roll over, thinking he was in bed, when he hit something. Prying his eyes open he was staring at the white porcelain of his cast iron bathtub. It took him a moment to realize that he must have gotten up sometime in the middle of the night.

Rubbing at his eyes, it took him a long while before he could gather the strength to pull himself up. Alex helped him as he used the side of the tub for support. He got both legs out of the tub but didn't get much further as he sat on the edge of it and closed his eyes again. His head was still killing him, but his body was feeling slightly better. It felt manageable.

"You had me worried when I woke up and couldn't find you," Alex was saying, her voice full of concern. "What were you doing sleeping in the bathtub?"

Bobby had no idea. Shaking his head, he breathed out as he tried to remember getting up and going into the bathroom. He must have felt sick or something, or needed to go, either way, he couldn't remember. Feeling her hands smoothing up and down his thighs, he opened his eyes and saw her kneeling in front of him. "Wha' time's it?"

Alex's concern was still prevalent as she told him, "Three."

Good, he could sleep for another two or more hours before having to get up for work. Bobby slowly pushed himself of the edge of the tub and taking her hand in his, made his way back to bed. As he laid down and pulled her to him, he said, "Thanks for finding me," before he was once again in the dark.

TBC…


	20. Mind expletive

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! Keep them coming! Okay, this is the reason why some people tell me that the way I write makes them love yet at the same time hate me.

Enjoy!

* * *

As Alex moved effortlessly around his kitchen, making them breakfast, he sat at the table watching her. It had been two days and he was finally able to get his mind to understand what he had done. To understand his own motives.

He had screwed up; it was now all out there in the open. The very heart that he had been trying to protect since he was a child had been exposed and it was breathing life except he was certain it was also killing him. Like in surgery, when the chest cavity was broken open exposing all the organs, if anything harmful entered that room, even too much air, the organs start to die. That was what he was feeling. There was a hole in him that pierced his armor and he was being infected, exposed, by everything that could kill his heart.

It all started when she had taken away his ability to control. The bitterness that rose in his throat was enough to make him sick all over again. He didn't know why he was blaming her, felt that he had to blame anyone, but the more he had thought about it the worse it had gotten. It was an odd feeling because when they had worked together, in their professional relationship, he didn't mind giving up some of his control to her even if it had been hard to do so.

However, with work, he ultimately did what he wanted anyway despite what she thought, or felt, about it. They had been at odds many times, but he had stood his ground no matter how much it hurt her and everyone around him. He kept his control by going against all the forces against him as he did what he wanted, even if it was siding with a cannibalistic serial killer.

In their personal relationship, it was a completely different situation. Where professionally he could back off, give in, he couldn't easily do that intimately. What was being controlled, the give and take of selves were completely different than that at work. The constant warring between them, and within him, over his heart and soul and mind was the most difficult thing to allow someone else to take and do what they pleased with it. It was typical relationship games, the power-play, and he had bought into it for years.

That had been his downfall. His ultimate mistake. The relationship struggle for control that would go around and around and around because there was no way he was going to let her win. His need to control his own life was the disease that had always infested and then destroyed his relationships. He couldn't give up his self, his independence, his need to be the one to decide what he did and how he did it. No room for discussion. No give and take. It was his life and no one, man or woman, was going to even attempt to try and tell him how to live it.

So, rationally, he knew he was the one to blame. He had been the one to screw it all up. Alex didn't do anything expect love him. And until two days ago, he had thought it had been enough. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Monday, after he had talked to Deakins, he had turned himself off. It was the only way to protect himself, to keep himself. Having taken the subway to One Police Plaza, he had walked around Manhattan for a long time, lost in his thoughts and in his emotions as he took all that he felt and bit-by-bit tried to bury it all. Stuff it down as he took in the cold air that filled his lungs. Before he knew it, he was in Central Park sitting on a cold wooden bench and staring at the freezing pond.

The thought had entered his mind to jump in it. He wanted to feel the cold water surrounding him, consuming him, and making him so numb nothing could touch him ever again. The pain would go away, his heart would mend, and his mind would clear. He hadn't felt right since he broke himself for her. Since he gave her a part of him, gave her the ability to control him, to deeply hurt him. No woman, no other woman has ever been able to do that to him except for his mother.

Nicole had gotten close, but he had been able to get inside of her, been able to inflict her with just as much pain as she had inflicted him. He beat Nicole by still having power over her, by still being able to have that wall that kept her from digging in too deep. She could mind-fuck him better than most, but he had always had the ability, and the gull, to do it right back. Nicole played him and he played her. It was twisted, he admitted, but it was in their natures and he couldn't, and refused to change that.

However, with Alex, when she inflicted him with pain he couldn't do anything except stand there and take it. When she controlled him, he couldn't control her back. When she played him…he felt like a fool. She held everything over him. The power, the control, the love, and the ability to be and do with or without him. He was completely at her will, her misery…He was vulnerable right down to the depths of his soul to her.

And that really pissed him off because there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. When it came to their relationship, she had it all. He had nothing. He couldn't help the feeling of anxiousness that ripped through him. The anger that radiated from that anxiety and the thoughts that plagued his mind.

He knew that it was his dominate nature that was being tested. His ever resilient need for control was being played with as Alex became more and more the one who was in control. It should have felt like a relief to give her that. To take the burden off him, but it didn't. He found himself not being able to accept what he had given her.

That feeling of being obtained by her was still there. Those feelings still calmed him, centered him, and he tried to hang onto that. Nevertheless with each passing day, where his dependence grew his anger did too. It was the spiraling darkness that ignited the anger, he knew. The disease that was infused in him, instilled in him, by both his parents. The thought that he was better off alone. The thought that that possessiveness could turn to resentment. His obsession with her could turn into something sinister and ugly.

He had found himself in tears. He had buried his face into his hands on that cold ass bench and cried like a child. And _it__hurt_. That was what it all boiled down to. One big ball of pain gnawing at him. The pain for wanting to control her, pain for wanting to love her, pain because she loved him, and pain because she could control him. He knew he was messed up because love wasn't supposed to feel like that.

Love wasn't supposed to make him want to throw himself into a frozen pond just to get through the pain.

He had left the park, took the subway home, and did another thing that screwed everything up. Going to his car, he took out of the glove box the pain medication he had been given by Jackson and took two of them. He was sick of feeling the torture that inflicted his entire body. He hadn't been thinking because he had been desperate.

By the time had arrived at her apartment to pick her up for dinner, he wasn't completely there. The wall had to be rebuilt or he just knew he wasn't going to make it. All the emotions he had been feeling were too much. He couldn't block anything out. There was no desire in him to face anyone ever again without the ability to turn himself on and off. He needed his defenses like he needed air to breathe. The brokenness he was feeling had to stop. He was going to make it stop. It had to be something he could control.

Then….._Then _'I love you'…Fucking Eric Clapton. Alex's response to a harmless, thoughtless lyric had unimaginable consequences for him. He hadn't even noticed his slip, what he had said; he was just singing and not really intending it to be heard by anyone, yet alone for Alex to think he was singing it, _saying it_, directly to her. When she told him, when he realized it, he couldn't tell her the truth to what he felt in that moment.

He felt robbed. Emotionally robbed and betrayed. What he told her was what happened, he had missed it. But that was all he told her. If he had said he wanted to take it back, she would have killed him. Thrown him out the window. He felt like throwing himself out the window.

And again, while she sat on his lap and held him, he had thought about the pond that was down below in the park. The ice cold water that could numb him, the wall that could encase him and keep him from sinking. So, he had tried once again to not let her have control over him. He would be okay. He wasn't going to let her overreaction control his emotions, his logic.

It hadn't work.

His anger had erupted when he talked to Garrison, but the guy did entice him and he fell for it. He fell for it like an amateur. Instead of being able to just push Garrison away, or to go at him like he had gone at him…He had felt himself sinking. He had been looking for a light, something to hang onto instead of his own self. Instead of his own control and his own will and his own ground, he had been searching for her. To see what she thought. To see if she would be there, supporting him.

He hated it. Yet, he had wanted it. He told her he did. He even told himself he did the night he left his mother. The night he had drove out to her place and gave himself to her uninhibitedly like a fool. A fool who was now desperately regretting his decision because he wasn't prepared for this.

He wasn't prepared for the feeling of brokenness, of losing himself. He was panicking. Outwardly he just looked tired, worn down, and maybe a little depressed. Inwardly, he was in a panic. He was anxious and agitated and scared and above all, he was out of control. The sickness he had experienced he believed came from it all. The stress that had been building within his body had snapped; it had all become too much and he had gotten sick. The sickness of his body was a reflection of the sickness he felt in his soul.

By keeping away from Alex on Tuesday he thought it would have helped. After his meeting with Garrison he had gone home instead of back to her place. He had taken another pain pill and drank a glass of scotch and had laid in bed for hours thinking and trying to get the pain to go away. Then at work he was half dead, or at least that was what he felt like. He had done nothing but paperwork on the Terrence Hughes case, making sure it was all in order for the prosecution and his files, and then gave everything to Lieutenant Williams once he was done.

During the late afternoon he had actually slept. He had gone into the 'crib' and crashed out on a bunk until Logan woke him, telling him it was time to get ready for the big night. Then the next thing he knew he was in the middle of the drug deal with the drug squad and Alex had been there. She had seen him and know she was keeping that from him. They were both keeping the secret from each other, but he knew. He knew that she was there. He held all the cards in his hand now. And it was something he could control.

A cup of coffee appeared in front of him and when he looked up he saw her concern. She always had that look. Smiling softly, he told her, "Thanks." It sounded rough and it hurt his strained throat.

Alex was unaware of all this of course. There was no way he was going to tell her. He did love her, still loved her despite the disease that was coursing through him and darkening his soul. It wasn't her, he knew. Alex wasn't to blame. It was him. He couldn't be dependent. He had told her that. He had told her that the feelings he had wouldn't go away.

There was no cleansing of his spirit when he told her he loved her. There was no light at the end of the dark tunnel for him when he broke himself for her. What was there, what was waiting for him when he opened his gates and let the flood in was a deep dark void waiting to swallow him. It felt like Hell because in that void there laid his demons. Every insecurity, every fear he ever had, every wrong he had ever done, every sin he had inflicted against himself, others, and God…It was all ready to take him. To ruin him. To torture him.

The more he felt the more he wanted to run and hide. The more he didn't want to look into the face of his demons.

This was why his father cheated and drank. Why his brother resorted to drugs…It was to regain their control back. It was the continuing cycle of men who relied on dominance, on control, to survive. Make that man weak, make him vulnerable, and make him feel that he held no control in his life and he would go out to find it. He would get what he wanted, one way or the other.

Bobby had his way. He didn't cheat and he didn't do drugs but he could mind-fuck the mind-fucker. He could lie in wait, patiently and calming, and then when the time was right he could take their control away and use it to his own advantage.

What could he do to Alex? Not a damn thing. When he had lost it before, he had nearly driven her away. He wasn't going to lose her again because if he did he knew she wouldn't come back. So, it all came down to what to tell her and when.

That was what he was trying to figure out. Should he keep the secrets from her? Should he let it all play out and see what happened naturally? Or should he step in and confess it all? Was having the upper hand, the control, _that _important to him, to their relationship?

It was the worst mind-fuck of them all because was doing it to himself.

"Are you going to be able to eat?"

Bobby took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He was doomed. "I'm gonna try," he said as he opened his eyes and picked up the cup of coffee.

"Still feeling off?"

He only looked at her. If only she knew. Bobby shrugged a little, saying, "I'm, uh…I'm feeling better. Thanks, Alex, for staying. You didn't have to."

Alex gave him a smile as she spread butter over a piece of toast then handed it to him. "I wasn't just going to let you wallow in misery all night without help. I'm glad I was here. I know that you wouldn't have called me."

Taking a bite out of the toast she had given him, he couldn't deny that. He wouldn't have called her. Bobby looked down at the bowl of oatmeal he didn't want but knew it was better for him than the bacon and eggs he was craving. He was still sick. Alex had taken his temper this morning and it was still at a hundred, but it had broken from the hundred and two it had been the night before.

"I'm actually surprised."

"By what," he asked as he dabbed some of the oatmeal on the edge of his slice of toast before taking a bite.

"That you haven't freaked out over what happened Monday night."

Bobby nearly choked. He got the food down his throat but had to down all his coffee to sooth his throat. Getting up, he couldn't look at her as he refilled the cup.

"Are you?"

Stirring the half-&-half into the coffee he shook his head. When he returned to the table, she took his hand and he knew she wasn't going to drop it until he looked at her. Until he said something. Staring into her trusting eyes, he told her, "No, I'm not."

Alex didn't look like she believed him, but she let it drop for now. He knew her and he knew she would bring it up again during a fight over bath towels or something. Bobby glared down at his food and didn't feel like eating. His stomach was twisting into knots. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck he was so out of sorts; it was maddening. Pushing the food away, he finished the toast and sipped at his coffee.

Sitting next to him on the table were the books that he had to return to the library along with several historical videos he had found interesting. Bobby glanced over the titles and reached for one when he heard Alex's voice.

"I don't believe you." Alex was still eating but she was watching him like a suspect in the interrogation room. "You have that look. It's okay for you to admit it."

Bobby worked his jaw at that. Nodding slightly, he said, "Okay, yeah, I freaked, but it's all okay now. I'll deal."

"What're you thinking about?"

Rubbing at his head, Bobby closed his eyes and took a moment to shuffle through the train wreck of thoughts that was colliding in his head. "Uh…right now? I'm thinking that the best song a serial killer could listen to while torturing his female victims is _Like a Rolling Stone_ by Bob Dylan."

Alex nearly dropped her cup of coffee as she went into shock. "…_What_?"

The element of surprise. If there was one thing he knew it was how to get out of a situation he didn't want to be in by confusing the other person. "Think about it. In that context, it's perfect," Bobby told her before he finished off his second cup of coffee.

She went to say something to him when the backdoor opened and Elliot's voice cut through the tension.

"Bobby you need to move your car!"

Turning, Bobby stared at Elliot as he asked, "Why'd I have to move my car?"

"I got you a surprise."

Bobby turned to Alex who shrugged; she was just as confused as he was. He got up and as he went to the backdoor he had to pull his robe tighter around him; it was freezing outside and the cold air was cutting across his bare legs. When he looked out he saw Elliot's truck and strapped down to it was a tree…a fir tree. A real fucking fir tree.

Elliot grinned like an idiot as he said, "Merry Christmas!"

Bobby shook his head and groaned. He could have hit him.

Alex just laughed. "Have fun. I've got to get to work."

"Speaking of which, why aren't you at work?" Elliot asked. "That's why I thought your car-"

"He's taking a sick day," Alex informed him. "He has a temperature of a hundred, so I made him call in. Lieutenant Williams said that if he shows up, she will take his temperature before allowing him to do anything. He agreed not to go." She then pointed to Elliot as she told him, "Keep him in this house or I'll kick your ass after I kick his."

Elliot held up his hands and said, "You've got my word. Bobby will be too busy helping me with the tree to even think about work."

Bobby only glared at him as he was starting to freeze his ass off standing in the door. "Yippy," he said with so much disdain he got looks from both Alex and Elliot.

"He's also a Grinch," Alex said before giving him a kiss before going back into the kitchen to get her stuff. "Be good," she told him as she pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse.

"Yes, dear," Bobby called through the house as he heard her open the front door and then leave.

Elliot slapped him on the shoulder as he said, "Go get dressed. That tree's heavy."

Bobby shook his head again but went and got dressed. He could at least ball some snow up and throw it at the man. Five minutes later he did just that, and then it was on as Elliot took cover behind the truck and started an all out snowball war.

* * *

Part of the puzzle was coming together for them, but what they had found out was another complication. She had wondered if Copeland was capable of continuing on or if he wanted to throw in the towel. The moment she laid the photos down that she had taken and what she had learned he was all over it. That man, like Bobby, held no fear when it came to working a case. They gathered all the information they could and took it to Captain Deakins.

She was standing in front of his desk, waiting for him to get off the phone while Copeland took a seat in the chair.

"Okay, I appreciate that, sir. Have a Happy Holiday," Deakins said into the phone before he hung up. He looked over the file she had placed in front of him and when he looked up she knew something was going on.

Alex watched as Deakins went over to the office door and shut it before going back over to his desk.

Sitting on the edge of it, Deakins crossed his arms and told her, "As of right now, I'm ordering you and Copeland off the Connelly case."

She stood shocked for a moment before she looked to Harry; he was just as shocked as she was. "You gave us until Friday."

"That was before," Deakins explained, but left it at that.

Alex wasn't backing down as she said, "Before what? We're getting closer to proving that something is going on with-"

"Eames," Deakins tried to calm her down as he pushed off the desk. Turning he picked up the file and said, "I know how hard this case is for you two, and I know that with it being your first case back you want to see it to the end and clear it. I'm telling you right now that that isn't going to happen. I'll take this," he indicated to the file, "And I'll see to it that it gets filed, but I received word from the Chief that they've decided not to wait until Friday."

"But we got you something to continue this."

Deakins nodded a little but she knew he wasn't going to budge on it. The decision had already been made. "I know, and you've done great work on it. I'm sorry, but it's over. I'm putting you back on rotation." He took another file off his desk and handed it to her. "This just got kicked to us from Brooklyn Homicide."

Alex looked at the file and sighed heavily as she refused to take it. Looking at her Captain, she saw Copeland take the file before giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"C'mon, Eames, you're driving right?"

She had gotten so close and now she felt that she was leaving Bobby out there all by himself on whatever was happening on Staten Island. With the Connelly case, she felt that she could help, somehow still be connected and working with him, and now it was all being taken away from her.

Shaking her head, Alex followed Copeland out and felt the last hope at protecting Bobby slip through her hands. "This fucking sucks."

Harry looked over at her in sympathy as he nodded in agreement. "I know why you wanted to keep working it. It wasn't just for the Connelly's, but for Goren as well. And, hey, with what we just found out, that the car that was watching the whole thing go down last night was registered to an Internal Affairs officer, I'm starting to believe you. It seems to me that corrupted cops are behind the Connelly murders and I bet IA recruited Goren to work for them."

Alex pulled on her coat as she studied Copeland. He was telling her the truth; he was on their side. "It's about time."

Harry smiled a little as he walked next to her to the elevators. "You should ask him about it. You still might be able to help him, maybe more now since you're not working the case. There's no more conflict of interest."

As the elevators doors opened Alex was taken back by who as standing on it. Detective Rivers from Staten Island Homicide, and he seemed to be happy, and expecting, to see her.

Rivers briefly glanced to Copeland before addressing her, "Detective Eames, just the person I was coming to see."

"What is this about, Detective?"

He stepped off the elevator as he told her, "It's of a private matter. Can we go somewhere?"

Alex looked to Harry as he said, "Sure, let's go."

Rivers looked up at Harry was he said, "I was hoping to just talk to Eames."

"We're partners. What you have to say to her you can say to me too."

Alex wasn't too surprised by Harry's sudden protectiveness of her. He was a good partner and he didn't like Rivers at all. "It's okay, Copeland," she said. She had no idea what Rivers wanted to talk to her about, but maybe this was a way she could gather some more information about the Staten Island cops. And now with her not working the case, they might be more willing to open up to her. "We can go to the conference room."

Rivers smiled a little as he started for the squad room. Alex gave a quick look to Harry before following.

Once inside the room with the door shut, Rivers pulled off his coat and laid it over the chair before motioning for her to sit before he did. What a gentleman, she briefly thought right before she rolled her eyes at his gesture. Sitting she didn't even ask the detective if he wanted anything to drink or not. She didn't care.

"Whatever you came here to say, Rivers, can you make it quick? I got a case."

"Oh? So, you're working another case along with the Connelly's?"

Alex shook her head as she told him, "I just found out that the Connelly case is being dropped due to lack of evidence and suspects."

Rivers seemed slightly taken back by that but he quickly recovered as he smiled a little. Then, he apologized, "I'm sorry. That was a big case for you, for this department." He was quiet for a moment before dropping his voice as he leaned on the table, getting closer to her. "I was wondering, would you like to have dinner with me?"

For the third time that day, she was shocked. Alex didn't know what to expect from Jimmy Rivers, and that wasn't it. It took her a moment, but she recovered as she leaned on the table, getting closer to him, as she said, "I'm in a relationship."

Rivers only nodded. "With Goren?"

Alex didn't know if she should be honest or not, but Bobby and Rivers did work together so it was bound to come out. And everyone knew of their history together. "Yes, with Bobby."

Looking out into the squad room, Rivers said, "I'm surprised that you two are still together. I mean, what with all the rumors going around. Everyone seems to think he turned."

Alex shook her head. She had no idea where this was going but she didn't like it. "It's a good thing I don't listen to rumors. And that's what they are, rumors."

Rivers looked back to her and did something that made her want to jump across the table at him. He _looked_ her over. "You're such a beautiful, smart woman to be lead around by Bobby Goren, Eames. I think maybe you should start listening to the rumors."

"And why would I do that?"

The creep only smiled. "I'm only trying to warn you, that's all. Give it some thought, Eames, and if you ever wanna talk." Rivers pulled out his card and handed it to her. "I'm available anytime, day or night."

Barely taking the card in-between her fingers, Alex watched as he got up and left the room. Looking down at the name and number on it she felt herself shudder.

As she left the room, Harry was right there waiting. "What'd he want?"

Alex turned the card over in her hand before showing it to Copeland. "He wanted me to have dinner with him, and then he told me that I should beware of Goren. He was trying to tell me that the rumors are true."

Copeland took the card from her as he thought about that. "He's playing you. I wonder what this is all about?"

"You're not the only one. If Bobby is undercover, which I now believe for a fact that he is, why's Rivers trying to get me to turn on him? Is he really interested in me or is he trying to see what I know?"

Copeland shook his head as he gave the card back to her. "Worst case is that he doesn't trust Goren and he's playing him through you. Did you tell him that the Connelly case was dropped?"

"Yeah, I did. It seemed like he knew it already." Alex saw the grimace on his face and knew that something else had happened. "What is it?"

Harry started back toward the elevators as he told her, "I was standing there, waiting for you to get done. When Rivers came out and saw me, he told me to watch my back. It sounded like a threat, but the thing is I have no idea who I'm supposed to be watching my back for."

Alex tensed at that. She remembered Bobby's urgent plea to her to let him know if the Staten Island cops threatened her in anyway. This was getting bad, she could feel it. The boundaries were getting crossed and she wondered what side she was playing on. "We need to let him know."

Harry hit the button for the lobby as he turned to her. "Look, I know you might feel better telling Goren all of this, but I'm not. I think we can handle it, plus, if you inform Goren of all this, it might jeopardize him, put him a position he doesn't need to be in. It'll be like throwing gas on the fire. We don't even know what this is yet? Rivers might not even be involved, he could just really like you and he does believe the rumors."

Alex took that in as she waited for the elevator to come to a stop. She felt conflicted between her loyalty to Bobby and her loyalty to her partner. And Harry was right. At that moment she didn't know where Rivers fit into the picture. Where he was in the puzzle that was expanding, getting wider with more pieces being added into the mix. "Okay, I'll do it your way. Give it a few days, or until we know more."

Harry seemed relieved as they stepped off the elevator. "Thanks. I'm glad that you're sticking with me on this."

"Why?"

"Because, it seemed like you were still more of Goren's partner than mine. You're trusting me more and I really do appreciate it. In fact," he said as he held the door open for her, "I appreciate it so much, I'll buy you lunch."

Alex shook her head at him, but the gratitude was there, along with the feeling that she was starting to trust, and accept, Harry as her partner. He was starting to slowly take the place where Bobby had once been. It troubled her, but she knew it was inevitable. Unless Bobby came back to Major Case, and unless the Brass ignored the fact that they were a couple, there was no way her and Bobby were ever going to be partners again.

As for replacements, Harry Copeland was working out just fine.

* * *

"So, how're you and Alex?"

Bobby stared at the tree in his living room. It was bare from top to bottom and he had nothing to put on it. Not a single strand of lights or ornament. He would have to go out and do some shopping. He decided to wait until he and Alex could go together either tonight or tomorrow because Christmas Eve was two days away. "We're good. Took her to Reggie's Monday night for dinner."

Elliot looked over at him in surprise. "Reggie's? Wow look at you. What'd you do, pawn off your books?"

Bobby wanted to smile at the joke but couldn't. He couldn't get his head to stop hurting. Turning to Elliot, he said, "Hey, uh…thanks, for the tree. I haven't had one in years, not since I was a kid."

Elliot shrugged, "I figured, with all that has happened, it's the least I can do to try and get you out of your slump. You were starting to worry me. I'm glad you and Alex are doing good. I hope it works out."

He appreciated Elliot's thoughtfulness, his friendship, and at that moment what he said really touched him. Bobby took a breath and tried to swallow the emotion that hit him. "I don't know what to do with it."

Elliot nodded a little then shrugged. "Decorate it."

"I know, but…I'm not celebrating Christmas here."

"Why not? Why don't you and Alex put your gifts for each other under this tree? You can have your own little Christmas."

Bobby bit his lip as he thought about that. "I guess we can do that. Seems like a lot of trouble though for one day."

Elliot chuckled as he shook his head. "You really are a pessimist. You can't see the joy in this can you?"

Bobby turned to him as he said, "It's not like I have children. I know Santa isn't real, and this…I have no purpose for this. I haven't had a purpose for this for years. If it wasn't for my mother, I wouldn't even realize the holiday still existed." He wasn't trying to depress Elliot, or himself, but it was the truth. The holidays had stopped meaning something to him a long time ago.

"I wanted to apologize," Elliot suddenly explained. "I haven't seen or spoken to you since Sunday because…I was pissed off at you for asking me about my mother."

Bobby tensed in anticipation as he looked over at his friend.

Elliot was avoiding eye contact with him as he stuffed his hands into his coat and eyed the tree. They were both still dressed in their coats, having just brought the tree in from outside. "She's bipolar. I haven't seen or spoken to her in years."

To say he was surprised was an understatement. Bobby had so many things to say to Elliot, some good, some bad, as he stared over at him. "Why years? Is she…"

"She's not institutionalized. She doesn't take her medication and she refuses to even accept her illness. I…I couldn't help her, couldn't deal with it. I kind-of forgotten I even have a mother."

Bobby felt the anger heat his hands, his face, his head as he listened to that. He knew that he shouldn't get angry at his friend, but…He was pissed. He had abandoned her. "You're a fucking coward." The second he said it, he didn't want to take it back.

Even when Elliot turned to him in shock before his anger bore through. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You refuse to help your sick mother. You left her, abandoned her…You're a coward."

Elliot glared at him so hard he was afraid it would come to blows. He looked prepared for it with his hands clenching at his sides but he surprised him once again as he said, "Not everyone can be like you, Goren. Some of us can't continue being that whipping post."

His breath caught as he nearly snapped. Bobby felt it, the anger that jerked his arm. "I'm not-"

Elliot huffed out a laugh as he stepped up to him. "I've lived with you for a month. Every Sunday when you get back here from visiting your mother I swore I could see the marks she inflicted on you. You keep going back to her, you keep taking it day after day, year after year. You're the one that can't let go. Yeah, maybe I haven't handled it correctly, maybe I should try to convince her again that she should get help, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let her abuse me on a daily basis like I'm some masochist momma's boy."

He was trembling so hard with keeping his control. Elliot no idea how lucky he was; how close he was to beating him. Gritting his teeth, he barely got out of his dry throat, "I want you out of my house."

Before he left, Elliot turned back and said, "You think by staying that makes you the bigger man? Sometimes the staying is what makes you the one that's the fucking coward."

At hearing the backdoor slam shut, Bobby turned back to the tree and closed his eyes as he continued to shake. He barely made it to the bathroom in time as he hit his knees and dry heaved until pain became too much and the tears subsided from his eyes.

* * *

It had been a long, crazy day, and all Alex wanted to do was make sure Bobby was okay and have a nice evening with just the two of them together. She unlocked the backdoor to his apartment and stepped inside, feeling the heat coming through the vents swepted away the freezing air from outside. Breathing out a deep breath, she leaned against the door and let herself feel the security she always felt when she came to his house. It felt like her second home and she had been missing it. Missing him.

Tossing her purse into the chair she got out of her black overcoat as quickly as possible. Opening the refrigerator she didn't find anything she wanted in it so she went over to the cabinets and looked around. Finally, she found the bottle of red wine on the bottom shelf and pulled it down. Taking a glass, she poured some of the wine into it before heading into the living room.

The tree looked foreign in Bobby's apartment. It stuck out like a sore thumb and it was bare from the top to bottom. She saw Bobby sitting on the couch but he was staring at it like it was the most amazing thing ever. He was out of the robe and t-shirt and boxers he had in the morning and was dressed in a black t-shirt and flannel shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and his feet were propped up on the coffee table. In his hand he held an empty glass.

"I'm assuming you want us to go and get decorations for that thing."

Bobby lifted his head off the back of the couch and watched her as she crossed the room. The look in his eyes took her by surprise, he seemed like he was staring into nothing.

Alex felt the worry grow as she sat down next to him and felt his head. "Your fever's gone. How'd you feel?"

He looked down at the empty glass but didn't answer her before going back to be staring at the bare, empty tree.

She didn't know what was going on; he had seemed distant for a few days but this was the worst she had seen him. Alex took a sip of the wine as she leaned against him, giving him her silent support and letting him know that she was still there.

Bobby moved away and that surprised her even more. He jerked his arm away and shifted away from her body.

What was going on? Alex put the glass down and turned to him; bringing her legs up onto the couch, she watched him as she reached out to touch his face. Bobby stopped her. He grabbed her hand to keep her from touching him but he had yet to look at her since she came into the room.

She was starting to get angry. Her day had been hell and he was now pushing her away, keeping her away, from being intimate with him. Alex need his comfort, his love right then, and he was denying her it. "What's going on, Bobby?"

Shaking his head, he dropped her hand. The silent treatment pissed her off even more. "What the Hell, Goren," she suddenly snapped causing him to finally look at her.

Bobby looked angry as well. The distant look was gone and the dark look he had in his eyes nearly caused her to flinch. "I'm not in the mood," he finally told her.

"I was just wanting to feel close to you right now. I need my boyfriend and you're acting like I killed your dog or something."

Bobby let out a breath, closed his eyes, and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he apologized before looked away from her again. "It's not your fault."

Alex went to touch him again, to give him a hug, to comfort the both of them because something had obviously happened to him today as well. As she rubbed her hand along his back, he tensed and pulled away again.

Moving against the side of the couch, Bobby shook his head, telling her, "Alex, not now. Okay."

Closing her eyes, she had to push her anger down again before she stood, picked up the glass of wine, and left the room. Going into the kitchen, she felt the anger turn into sorrow as she felt the tears burn at her eyes. Refusing to let him get to her, to let the emotions of the day finally break her, she finished the wine and then started heating up water to make some tea.

She had bought some last night for Bobby because he was sick and hot tea had always made her feel better when she was sick. Once the water was heated, she poured two cups and hoped Bobby would realized that she wasn't too mad at him. Taking him the cup, she sat it on the coffee table next to his feet before going into the bedroom.

Picking up one of his books that was on the nightstand next to the bed, she read the title before tossing it back down. She needed to bring some of her books back to his place. Going into his study, she looked around the bookshelves until she found a book of poetry that interested her and took it into the bedroom.

She read while she sipped at her tea and then she took a long shower and got ready for bed. Lying back down in the bed, she picked the book up again and read a few more pages as she felt herself start to drift off to sleep. Putting the book down, she looked at the clock and saw that nearly three hours had gone by and Bobby still hadn't come to bed.

The distance she had felt coming from him shook her again as she rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling, much like she had seen Bobby do on many different occasions. She knew that this whole thing had to be hard on him, weighing him down with the stress of his work along with keeping her satisfied in their relationship so she was trying not to let it get to her. She was trying to understand and stay focused and keep it all in perspective but it still hurt none-the-less. She had needed him tonight. Needed his love and his connection. She had needed her boyfriend, and he had given her his silence. He had given her his disconnection, his anger. He had pushed her away instead of talking to her about it.

Alex didn't want to try and get it out of him with an argument. She didn't want to fight with him anymore, so she buried herself under the covers and turned out the light.

* * *

He had waited until he heard Alex in the shower before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. Flipping it open, he stared at the text message he had received for the fifth time that day. Biting his lip, he felt the anger all over again at how this was going. It was starting to spin, all of it, out of his control.

And now Alex knew for certain, and she was also keeping secrets from him. Sighing, he flipped the phone shut and tossed it onto the table next to the cup of tea she made for him. Picking it up, he took it into the kitchen and dumped it out before washing it and the glass out.

Bobby stared down into the sink as the dish water spun around the drain as he felt that something had to give. Someone had to give. Gripping the edge of the sink he pulled against it as he felt the burst of anger take hold and surge through him as the tears burned at his eyes. His foot impacted the cabinet door as he kicked at it trying to let the anger out.

All the events and emotions of the day had finally gathered in his dark soul and he couldn't even look at Alex. He couldn't even feel her touch against his skin. It wasn't her fault, he reminded himself again. And now the operation was starting to reach out and touch her. He had told her to tell him, to let him know when the Staten Island cops talked to her, threaten her, and she didn't do it. She wasn't going to tell him after she had promised him she would. She promised him!

He had to hear it from Logan and the only reason Logan knew was because he overheard Rivers talking about it with Jackson. Pulling at the sink, he heard the wood started to crack as it started to pull away from the wall. Letting go, he stumbled back as he tried to regain his control. He couldn't go back there, to his bed, feeling the way he did. Feeling that Alex was lying to him and keeping things from him. That she was trying to control the situation.

Slumping down into the chair at the table, he needed to get a hold of himself. Alex would never willfully lie to him or keep secrets from him. She had to have been talked into not saying anything. The only other person he could think of that she would have agreed to do that for was her partner: Harry Copeland.

She was loyal to him now since he was her partner. Logan had said that Rivers mentioned a threat he thrown toward the detective. Copeland could feel like it was none of his business to know about it and he probably talked Alex out of voicing anything to him just yet.

As he went back into the living room all he could think about was Copeland and how, in that moment, he hated him. He didn't go into the bedroom until he was certain Alex was already asleep. Leaning against the doorframe, Bobby watched as Alex rolled in her sleep, moving closer to his side of the bed, before snuggling back down into the pillow.

Undressing down to his boxers, he felt the urge and sudden the need to remind her exactly who he was. That he was the only man she was supposed to be loyal to. That when she promised him something, it wasn't supposed to be broken, especially not because of some other man. Jealously as strongly as what he was feeling was foreign to him. It was unrecognizable to his heart as he stared down at her as he moved over top of her.

Alex felt him and she stirred against him as she opened her eyes. The fear woke her, startled her before she realized that it was him who was hovering over her. When the fear faded she was left looking confused and worried. "Bobby?" she whispered into the room.

He stared down at her as he shook from his growing jealously and the fear that it inflicted on his heart and soul. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly so not to frighten her.

Alex went to push him off her but as she did so, she answered, "Yes. What's-"

"You love me?"

She started to get that look of fear back as she stared up into his eyes. "Yes. You're starting to scare me."

Bobby felt his anger twitch at his muscles as he held himself up from crushing down into her body. "If you love and trust me, why are you scared of me?"

She looked confused by that. "I'm not, but right now with what you're saying, and how you're saying it, it sounds…" she trialed off as he ran his fingertips over her face.

Bobby felt the twitch in her cheek as he caressed it. He was starting to scare himself. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on hers as he asked softly, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Alex was silent for a long moment before she answered, "Nothing important."

Bobby nearly broke. She wasn't going to tell him. Nodding against her, he said, "Okay." Rolling off her, he turned in the bed and didn't move or say anything to her for the rest of the night.

TBC…


	21. A fight isn't the end of the world

Thursday had been a slow day for him at work. With the Terrence Hughes case closed and most of Sullivan's unsolved cases being nearly a year old, all he was working on was the serial case. It turned into a whole day of pushing papers and reviewing evidence.

Bobby was actually getting pretty tired and frustrated with it all so when Logan asked if he wanted to go with him to talk to Roger Grey's widow, he was up out of his seat before Mike could even finish the question. Anything to get out of the office he would gladly jump on.

As he started for the doors with Logan, Bobby caught sight of Rivers in the break room. "Give me a minute," he told Logan as he handed him his binder before stalking over toward the detective.

Behind him he heard a strict curse before Logan said, "Don't kill him."

Rivers had his back turned to him and he was sipping on a cup of coffee and watching the television that was in the corner of the room. It was tuned into a breaking news coverage going on in the city.

The moment Bobby spotted Rivers the anger in him broke. His hands balled, his heart rate sped up, and a twitch throbbed in his right cheek as he marched right up behind Rivers and did something he hadn't done since he was a teenager. He pushed the detective in the back, sending him stumbling forward, and started a fight.

Rivers turned toward him stunned and with coffee spilt all over the front of his suit. "What the fuck Goren?!"

He didn't answer or respond as he threw a punch, hitting Rivers in the right side of his face. Before he could get another punch in, Bobby felt arms around him and then Jackson's voice in his ear telling him to calm down. Rivers, once out of his shock, grew red as he came after him, plowing right into him and Jackson and sending them both stumbling back into the wall.

Bobby wasn't sure how it all happened but the next thing he knew he had Rivers around the neck with Logan, Jackson, Gonzalez, and half the other detectives in the squad trying to get him to let go of the detective. Rivers was trying to hit him in the gut but he had his arms around his neck so tight he was strangling him.

"Damn it Bobby let him go!" Jackson said as he tried to yank his arm away.

Through the anger that had exploded in him, Bobby realized what he was doing and finally let the guy go. Rivers stumbled a couple of feet and then collapsed to the floor, coughing and gagging as he tried to breathe.

Jackson was the one that grabbed him and threw him against the wall demanding, "What the hell's going on?"

Bobby didn't look at Jackson as he glared down at Rivers. Once the detective turned to him, he pointed down at him and said as calmly yet as dangerously as he could, "If you ever talk or try to hit on Eames again, you'll live to regret it."

Rivers stared up at him but he did give him a slight nod in agreement before pushing Gonzalez away when he tried to help him up.

Turning to Jackson, Bobby glared hard at him before pushing him away too.

"You need to watch yourself, Bobby," Jackson told him as he barely stepped back from the shove.

"Yeah, maybe, but you better keep your partner in check before he does something he'll regret."

Jackson was taken back by that, like he hadn't been expecting that amount of anger and disdain coming from him. He recovered as he said, "Okay, I got you."

Bobby glanced over at Rivers one last time before leaving the room. Logan was right behind him.

"Well, if you wanted to stir up trouble with our new friends I think you succeeded."

"I didn't want to stir up trouble," Bobby told him as he took back his binder and headed for the staircase. "I wanted to let Rivers and everyone else know that if they fuck with Eames they fuck with me."

Logan nodded a little before saying, "I think it worked."

Once they were in the car and on the way to the home of Roger Grey, Bobby asked, "Why are you talking to the widow now? Shouldn't you have already done that?"

"She's been out of the state. I guess after her husband's death, she took off, went to visit family. She just returned a few days ago." Logan turned up the heat but Bobby reached over and turned it back down. "I'm freezing."

"And I'm burning up."

"That's because you just went a round in the break room," Logan said as he turned the heat back up.

Bobby rubbed as his pounding head and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Looking out the window, he watched as the snow fell as he let his thoughts wander.

The night before had really scared him. His bitterness and jealously had gripped him so hard it had felt like he was the one being strangled. Alex had truly been scared of him because of his inexcusable actions toward her. She had tried to talk to him in bed, tried to get him to say anything but he had completely shut her out. Hours later and she still didn't tell him anything about Rivers talking to her or threatening Copeland. He had laid awake until well after she left when he refused to speak; when he had refused to apologize.

He didn't think he had to be the one to apologize. Then if he did apologize than it would mean and insist that he was the one ultimately in the wrong. Bobby knew he was in the wrong, but so was she. They both needed to apologize but he knew that wasn't going to happen so he didn't say it. He couldn't. He had felt so betrayed that she had broken her promise to him that he couldn't even begin to feel any sympathy for hurting her.

That was when he knew he was losing himself too far into his own misery and anguish. That was when he knew he had really screwed it up. When he had gotten up in the morning he had called her but she didn't answer so he left her a voice message. He had apologized. She had yet to call him back but he offered to do anything to try and make it up to her.

Bobby closed his eyes as he felt the pain of the hurt he had caused her last night. The consuming darkness in him had reached out of him and inflicted itself onto her and that was the worst thing he could have done. It had been because of the strength of the jealously he felt along with the anger he held toward Elliot's words to him, and then the bitterness he had been feeling earlier that day toward Alex, it had all crashed into one and he had taken it out on her.

What was wrong with him? Why did he have to do that? Bobby was broken out of his thoughts as he felt his cell phone vibrate. Taking it out, he almost couldn't answer it. It was her. "Hey," he said as he answered. "Did you get my message?"

"I got it," Alex told him before saying, "It was partly my fault."

Bobby stiffened at that as he continued to look out the window. He wondered if she was going to come out and tell him that she hadn't been honest with him but then she continued.

"I knew you were in a bad place last night, I could tell, but I ignored it and tried to push my way in…I probably made you feel worse."

Bobby's mouth went dry as he listened to her. She was blaming herself for what he had done. And she still wasn't telling him. Trying not to dwell on it, he told her, "Alex, it's not anything you did. I…I wasn't," he breathed out as he tried to figure out what to say instead of coming right out and telling her that he knew. It would have saved them a lot of trouble and heartache if they had just been honest and upfront with each other. "I, um, I want to talk about it, okay. Things happened yesterday, between me and Elliot, and I took it out on you. I didn't want to, it just happened and…I'm sorry."

Alex was silent for a long moment before asking, "What happened between you and Elliot?"

Bobby rubbed at his eyes as he sighed in frustration. Why couldn't he just tell her? Shaking his head, he said, "Let's have dinner tonight, and I'll tell you all about it."

"Okay, where?"

Smiling slightly, and trying to ease the tension that was expanding within his own body, he told her, "I'll cook. Plus, we've got to decorate my tree."

Alex laughed a little before agreeing. "I'll see you at your place after work."

Once they hung up, Bobby leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He knew the reason why he couldn't tell her. Why he was feeling so lost and troubled. It all came back to not feeling like he was in control. That was what was plaguing him, making him continue keeping secrets that he no longer had to keep. They could deal with it together if he just opened up, let her in, let her take on the pain and the burden like she had told him she wanted to do.

That made him want to laugh. Alex had no idea how much weight that would be. She didn't know what she was getting into and he still felt like he had to protect her. The truth was that he didn't want her to know. He didn't want her involved. He couldn't put her into this operation without knowing how it was going to turn out. If he failed, and she was a part of it, she could go down right along with him.

His decision was made. As long as he could keep it from her, keep that dark corrupt world away from her, he would do it. He told himself that he was protecting her, and right then, that was what it felt like. It was what he believed at the moment to be the truth.

* * *

The case they had been given from Brooklyn Homicide was moving along smoothly, within two days they had solid leads and were now waiting on Carver to step into gear and get them their warrants. With the weekend holiday fast approaching, it was taking longer for word to get back to them on anything. Judges were leaving early for the weekend so Alex wasn't expecting anything to really pick back up until Monday.

Deakins knew all this so it didn't surprise her when he sent a few detectives home early who were just sitting around pushing papers. Her and Copeland were two of the select few who got to leave early and she couldn't have been more grateful. It gave her time to go home and relax and get herself ready to spend the evening with Bobby.

She was still conflicted, especially after his behavior last night, with whether to tell him everything that had transpired between her, Harry, and Detective Rivers. She knew that she had broken her promise to him but the lines were being drawn and she felt like she was being thrown into the middle having to choose. She didn't want to feel that way. She didn't want to have to choose between Copeland and Bobby. She wanted to be loyal and open with the both of them without feeling like she was betraying either one of them.

_Men. _She was starting to hate them. She had taken a shower and when she was putting some water on the stove to heat for tea she heard her cell phone vibrate on the counter. Expecting it to be Bobby, she was surprised that it was her sister Liz. "Hey sis, what's up?"

"I hope you're not busy tonight."

Alex closed her eyes and groaned. "I am actually. What's going on?"

"I'm on my way over. Well, I'm actually parking out front of your place as we speak."

Shaking her head, she said, "It's a good thing we're family. Okay, see you in a minute." Closing her phone, she went to call Bobby when there was a knock at her door. "That didn't take long." Opening the door, she glared at her sister before noticing that the only thing she was carrying was a huge oversized beach bag. "You didn't bring Nathan?"

"I was going to but he was asleep and I didn't want to wake him. He's fine with Terry; I trust in his abilities as a dad."

Alex took the bag that was in her sister's hand as she went into the living room. The bag was heavy and as she looked in it, asked, "What's in this?"

"A pair of clothes, pajamas, my makeup, shoes, a book, CD's, and a bunch of other stuff."

Alex didn't like Liz barging into her already planned evening with Bobby, but what could she do? It was her sister. "You're staying! What happened?"

"We had a fight."

"A fight isn't the end of the world."

Liz turned to her and crossed her arms. "I know it's not the end of the world, and it wasn't just a fight. It's a battle of wills and I will not concede to him. He was being ridiculous and unreasonable."

Taking the bag down the hall to her bedroom, she knew that Liz was following her. "So, what was it over this time?"

"What else? Money. He wants to buy a boat."

Putting the bag down on her bed, Alex turned to her sister. "A boat? What's wrong with that?"

"We don't have the money for a boat. We have to start thinking about our family, Alex. Our house is old, Terry's been doing a lot of repairs to it and I think we should sell and get something bigger. And I want to trade-in my car and get one of those SUV's. Terry thinks I'm asking for too much right now, that we don't need a bigger house and a new car."

"Maybe because you don't," Alex told her, siding with her brother-in-law.

At that Liz glared at her and then pointed a finger while saying, "He's not getting a damn boat."

She watched as Liz stalked off down the hall before closing her eyes and shaking her head. Pulling out her cell, she tried to call Terry but he wasn't answering. Not knowing what to do, and wanting to make sure her brother-in-law was okay, she called the only other person she knew to be on Staten Island at the moment. Hoping he wasn't busy on a case, she waited while his phone rang.

"Goren."

"Bobby, are you at work still?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing to do with me. Are you?" she asked as she started back down the hall.

"I just got off. I'm-"

"So, you're still on the island then," she said cutting him off. "Look, could you do me a favor?" Alex saw Liz messing around in the kitchen pulling out bottles of wine.

"Uh, yeah, sure. What'd you want me to do?"

Rubbing her head as she went into the living room, she told him, "Could you go to my sister's house and make sure Terry is okay. They had a fight, well, a blow-up, and she's here but upset. I just…Can you do it?"

He was silent for a moment before he answered, "Yeah, no problem. Once I talk to him I'll give you a call back."

"Thanks, Bobby. I appreciate this."

"Anything for you, babe."

Shaking her head at him, she smiled as she closed her phone. Turning around, she jumped at the sight of her sister behind her.

Holding a glass of wine out to her, Liz said, "So you sent Bobby out to talk to Terry. That's just great," she snarled a little before collapsing down onto the couch.

Alex took the glass and took a big gulp as she closed her eyes. She hadn't expected to have to deal with this tonight, but her sister needed her and maybe she could turn this into a fun sister night or something. "Okay, I'll let you stay the night but you have to promise me something."

"And what's that?"

She smiled as she went over to her stereo and turned it on. Selecting a CD, she put it in and pressed play. "No bad talking your husband or my boyfriend."

Liz was laughing at her as she danced her way over to the couch as the song _Gonna Make a Mistake_ by Fiona Apple started to play. "Fine! I won't bad talk our men, but I'm not promising that I won't at least talk about them."

Sitting down next to Liz on the couch, Alex said, "Of course not. It won't be a sister night if we didn't talk about our men, but only the good things."

Liz smiled warmly at her and then clicked her glass against hers. "Only the good things."

* * *

Terry took a beer out and handed it to him as he asked, "So Alex made you come out here to check on me?"

Bobby took the offered beer as he told him, "She's worried I guess." Twisting the cap off, he tossed it on the counter as he leaned back against it. He took a sip and felt himself involuntary grimace at the taste.

"You don't like it?"

"No, no, the beer's fine it's just…It's not the kind I usually get."

"Well, what kind do you usually get? If you want I can go to the store-"

"Terry, it's fine, really. I'm just not used to it. I get the, uh, the imported stuff anyway. Don't worry about it."

Terry smiled a little as he leaned back against the counter opposite him. "Should've known. I mean," he said as he gestured to him, "nothing about you's cheap."

Bobby took a small sip of the beer as he thought about that; and it gave Terry time to continue, which he did.

"Don't get me wrong, Bobby, there's nothing wrong with a man who likes to spend his money. You got nice suits, bet you can't find a single cheap one, huh? And every man dreams about owning a fucking beautiful vintage car. That Mustang's a '67, right?"

Bobby nodded a little as he looked through the house toward the front door. He could see his car sitting out on the street through the window. "Yeah, but, I only had to pay half on everything that went into it. I helped a buddy of mine restore it. He cut me a deal."

"Still, I bet it cost more than my Intrepid."

Looking back at Terry, Bobby realized what the fight had been about between him and his wife. It had been about money. "It's not that big of a deal."

Terry was watching him for a long moment as he took a long drink of the beer. "You like having your own things, right? You like having the freedom and the ability to own what you want when you want it?"

Bobby shrugged a little as he told him, "Who doesn't?"

"Exactly, who doesn't? Everyone wants things every once in a while. Things that you've dreamed about having for years and when you finally get the opportunity to get it you should have every right to go out and get it."

"Terry," Bobby said as he sat the beer down on the kitchen island and leaned on it. "What did your wife say you couldn't get?"

"A boat," he simply told him. "And do you know why she said I couldn't get it? Get this, she says that we have to start looking to buy a bigger house and a new car. Look around you? This is a pretty big two bedroom with a fenced-in yard, a pool, and a two car garage. And do you know how much it cost us to buy five years ago? Twenty grand. That was it. At the time, that was a great deal, especially here. I mean, the schools in this district are great, there's a park down the street, store on the corner, our neighbors know us and they're wonderful. We have cookouts and pool parties with our friends and family. And she wants me to go out and look for something bigger, with more rooms, in a better school district. Do you realize how much that would cost me? More than my boat!"

Bobby actually started laughing at that. He had never seen Terry this worked up before. Usually the man was quiet, relaxed, and laid-back. And now he was turning red and getting angry; it was amusing. "Okay, so…Why does she suddenly want all these things?"

"Because of Nathan. She says that now that we have a kid we should be wanting to expand on our lifestyle. Whatever the fuck that means because I have no idea. I thought our life was great. Then all of a sudden the schools she liked five years ago aren't good enough for our son. He's only a baby, we can think about what school to put him into when he gets to be about five or six. Oh, and she says this neighborhood isn't good to raise a child in. All our neighbors have kids! They all love Nate, but suddenly they aren't good enough kids to bring him up around? She's nuts! And what's wrong with our cars that she wants to get rid of hers for a brand new SUV. We have _one_ kid! Not four! We can't even have more children so it's not like we're planning a huge family or anything. I'm telling you, Bobby, if you want to keep what you've got stay single. This marriage shit will drain you of everything. Us men just want a fucking nice vintage car and a damn boat. Women want everything else and believe me, they'll get it from you and make you crazy while they're doing it."

Bobby felt himself laughing again. He knew that this was a serious issue for the man, but Terry was a funny guy when he was pissed off. Looking down at the beer in his hand, he downed it before asking, "Got anymore?"

"I've got plenty," he bit out as he pulled open the refrigerator and got out two more.

* * *

"_Oh your gaze is dangerous, and you fill your space so sweet. If I let you get too close, you'll set your spell on me. So darlin' I just wanna say, just in case I don't come through, I was onto every play, I just wanted you. Oh it's so evil, my love, the way you've no reverence to my concern, so I'll be sure to stay wary of you love…"_

As Fiona Apple's song _Shadowboxer_ filled the apartment, Alex sipped on her second glass of wine as she let Liz give her a pedicure. "This song always reminds me of my relationship with Bobby."

Liz smiled a little as she teased, "Funny, because whenever I hear this song I think of you and Bobby too."

"_Yeah I'm a shadow-boxer baby, I wanna be ready for what you do. And I been swinging around me 'cause I don't know when you're gonna make your move."_

"That's so us," Alex said before she finished off the wine. "This should be our song, but I'm certain Bobby would hate it, and it's not exactly a typical 'our song' song. It's about a breakup for crying out loud."

"What song does he want to be yours?"

Alex thought about it and she had no answer to that. "I have no idea. His musical taste is staggering in the fact that he likes everything from opera to Irish punk rock. I even caught him listening to hip-hop one time and nearly had a heart attack. If I actually give in and let him drive he's not allowed to turn on the radio. He's never satisfied with one type of music for too long."

Liz started laughing as she said, "Done!"

Alex smiled as she admired her sisters work. "How come I can never make them look as good as you. You should do that for a living."

"Yeah like I want to throw away my degree to paint nails. Oh, speaking of degrees, I'm one test away from getting my Associate's and I've got an interview at Glen Oaks Memorial in there Pediatric Center."

"Congratulations! When did this happen?"

"Last week. Terry's thrilled but at the same time he's starting to freak out over putting Nathan in daycare. I don't really like the idea either, so, I've been thinking about asking mom and dad to keep him during the day but I don't know…"

"Are you kidding? Mom and dad would be thrilled to take care of Nate. And Glen Oaks isn't too far from their neighborhood."

"Yeah, but they're getting old and Nate can be a handful. He's a handful for me and Terry I can only imagine what he'll be like for our parents."

Alex rolled her eyes. "They've babysat Heather and Eric and the twins. They can handle Nate. But if you're really uncertain then, well, what about Angie? The twins would love to have Nate around to play with after school."

Liz seemed to think that over as she refilled their glasses with more wine. "I guess that would work. I don't know, I'll bring it up on Christmas and see what happens."

Alex smiled a little as she whirled the wine around in the glass. "Guess what?" When Liz looked at her expectedly, she told her, "Bobby's spending Christmas with us."

Liz stared at her for a long moment before shaking her head. "You're bound and determined to keep him aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Her sister was looking at her with a slight smile as she finally told her, "Good, I'm happy for you."

Alex was shocked for a moment as she stared over at Liz. "You're happy for me and Bobby? Last time we talked about it, you hated him."

Liz shrugged a little as she said, "I've been thinking, and yeah Bobby's not Mr. Perfect but who is?" At seeing the surprise on her face, she explained, "I was very impressed with him during…with what happened to you. Bobby was a man on a mission trying to find you and he didn't stop until he brought you back home."

Alex saw the tears forming in Liz's eyes and quickly pulled her sister into a hug.

"He's a good guy, and I see how happy you are with him," she continued to cry against her.

Hugging her sister tighter, Alex told her, "Thank you."

Liz started laughing but refused to break the hug. "Yeah, yeah…"

* * *

Bobby was coming out of the bathroom when he heard a soft crying coming from the room across the hall. Peering in through the door into the semi-dark room that was lighted by a small lamp that was in the shape of a cartoon character, he saw the source of the crying. Nathan was standing up in the bed and rubbing at his eyes as he let out a soft cry. Going into the room, he looked around hoping to see Terry but there was no such luck. The dad was elsewhere in the house.

At seeing him Nathan stopped crying as he smiled up at him and held his arms out. Bobby leaned over the top of the baby bed and grabbed the kid up into his arms. Nathan immediately rested his head on his shoulder as he left the room.

Finding Terry in the kitchen, he went up to him as he told him, "Nathan woke up."

Terry smiled at him as he ran his hand over his son's back. "Probably diaper changing time. C'mon, bring him back to his room and I'll do it."

Following Terry back down the hall to Nathan's room, he handed the kid off to the dad then left him to take care of his son. Going back into the kitchen, he took another beer out of the refrigerator before going over to the stereo system. Turning it on, he went through the CD collection and selected six discs and put them into the player. Putting it on random shuffle, he headed back to the kitchen and was greeted by Nathan who wandered around the corner.

Nathan was wearing a pair of blue pajamas with racecars all over it and once he saw him he ran over to him. Picking the kid up, he went into the living room and took the fleece throw blanket off the recliner. Wrapping the little boy up in it, he headed back out onto the deck but not before taking the bag of miniature marshmallows off the kitchen counter as he passed it.

On the deck that overlooked the vacant pool that held snow instead of water there were lawn chairs and a small charcoal fire-pit that was still burning. He had lit it almost an hour ago when he and Terry first went outside. Sitting back down in the chair, he propped his feet up on a railing and leaned back.

A few minutes later, as he was sipping on his beer and listening to Jimi Hendrix's version of _All Along the Watchtower_, he heard Terry come out onto the deck. Looking up he saw the look on Terry's face as he spotted him. Nathan, who was sitting on his lap, looked over as well and seeing it was his dad, held up a marshmallow in his hand offering one to him.

Terry chuckled as he took the marshmallow from his son and sat back down in the chair next to his. "You look comfortable, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby laughed a little as he let Nathan put a marshmallow in his mouth. Pretending to bite at the boy's fingers, Nathan shrieked and then started laughing as he yanked his hand away.

The night hadn't exactly went as he planned it. Instead of cooking dinner for Alex and decorating his Christmas tree, he was eating marshmallow's on the back deck at Alex's sister's house and having a 'guy night' with her brother-in-law and Nathan. He thought as he let Nate climb off his lap and run over to his father that this was what it was like to be in a family. Anything could happen at anytime, but at least it was with people that were supposed to care about you.

Awhile later, as he was lying back in the reclining lawn chair and staring at the stars, Terry said, "I heard that our brains stop developing in our 20's. That means that even though I'm forty-five, I still have the same mind I had when I was in my twenties."

Bobby turned his head to be looking at Terry who was stretched out in another chair with Nathan asleep on his chest. Taking a sip of the beer, he told him, "Physically, our brains stop growing somewhere after puberty, but uh, the uh, the region responsible for things like impulse control and moral judgment is the last to mature, sometimes in the early 20's. So, yeah, if you go by that…actually, you're right. That's probably why a lot of people, despite their age, still act like immature…uh, adolescents instead of adults. See, some people's mental maturity, you know, depending on upbringing and everything, when they get older they still act like, uh…like twelve year olds; they never completely grow up. They're stuck at, at whatever level they're at and there's nothing they can really do about it. Plus, by the time your get to be in your late twenties, you're pretty much set in your ways. You become attached to your ideas and beliefs that you refuse to learn, to grow…And then I come along and arrest you for some stupid crime you've committed while throwing a temper tantrum of a four year old."

Terry started laughing as he continued to looked up at the cloudless sky. The snow had stopped falling hours ago and the front had moved on, leaving behind a clear night sky.

"But, your brain, it never stops developing mentality if you keep learning. If you keep feeding it information and new ideas and doing and reading new things. You have to work your brain or else…you lose it." He went silent for a moment as thought about what he was explaining before, then he said, "And I'm not saying that everyone who still acts and behaves like a child commits crimes, 'cause they don't. I've come across a lot of people who are well, uh…who are very mature and level-headed who still do unbelievably stupid things out of fear or jealously or love. I've done a lot of stupid things."

"Yeah, I did a stupid thing tonight by having a blow-up with my wife over a damn boat. Now she's at her sisters and you're here with me, all over an argument. Soon, Nate here's gonna be yelling at me over something stupid."

Bobby chuckled a little as he returned to looking up at the sky. Out on Staten Island, he could actually see the stars. He continued to sip on his beer as the song _Old Man _by Neil Young started playing. "Okay, that's pretty fucking ironic."

Terry started laughing again as he said, "We're the old men now. That's a scary thought."

"We're not that old," Bobby said just before he finished off the beer and sat it on the deck.

"How old are you?"

"Forty-three."

"Yeah, forty-three and before you know it you'll be fifty. Fifty, and if you're lucky enough to live 'til you're eighty-three…that would only give you thirty-three more years."

Bobby stared over at Terry as he thought about that. "You're depressing me, man."

"I'm being realistic. We've got, at best, right now, forty more years to live."

"So, that's what? Another lifetime from now."

"But a lifetime of what? Of old age. It's not like we're looking forward to turn twenty-one all over again or of being young. We're looking forward to being old. Of turning sixty! Of having to take some pill to satisfy our women, or worse by not being able to get it up at all. And of losing our jobs, of not having anything but a joke of a retirement. A retirement with what? You know, it does get frustrating with the wife sometimes and now the added responsibility of being a father, but when I lose everything else in this world I'm going to have my family. At least I've got that. What's life without a family."

"You think that-that I don't have anything?" Bobby asked as he sat up and turned to face Terry as his anger soared.

"I didn't say that," Terry quickly defended as he sat up a little, cradling Nathan in his arms.

"Yes you did! Right now, you just said that what's life w-with-without a family. You're implying I got shit!"

"Bobby, it's not a bad thing to be alone. I was talking about me personally, I couldn't do it. I couldn't not have my family, especially now when all I have to look forward to is getting old and dying."

"I got my job, I've got my mother, brother…I've got Eames."

"And all those things are great for right now. What about later? What about when you don't have that job or your mother or God forbid Alex."

Shaking his head with a frustrated groan, he got up and started pacing. This conversation was getting out of hand. It was stirring up too many painful emotions and thoughts that he didn't want to have. Picking up the empty bottle of beer, he went back into the house.

"Bobby!" Terry called after him. "Hey, I didn't…I didn't mean anything by it! I'm just talking! Bobby…_shit_."

* * *

Liz was laughing so hard she had a hard time finishing the story, "The look on dad's face when you said that, he wanted to believe you but all he had to do was look at your jeans. They were ripped and torn with grass stains from when you were so drunk you couldn't find the path back through the woods…"

"Hey! I would have found the path back if you wouldn't have taken my flashlight. I could've been bitten by a snake or tripped and hit my head walking through those woods," Alex defended herself but she was laughing too. "I still can't believe you guys even talked me into going camping upstate."

"You agreed after I told you that Colin Murphy was going to be there."

Alex smiled at remembering her once high school crush. "Colin Murphy. I haven't thought about him since I was seventeen. I still remember that motorcycle he had."

"The Indian; that was a nice bike, until he wrecked it."

Alex blushed hard as she remembered just _how _and _why_ he wrecked it. "That was completely my fault."

Liz looked shocked at that as she said, "That was you!"

Alex went to tell her what happened when she heard a noise coming from the living room.

"Alex!" It was Bobby's voice, and he sound like he was in panic.

She quickly rolled out of her bed and hurried down the hall. "Bobby?"

When she entered her living room, she saw him. He was looking at Polly in the birdcage and he was swaying slightly, like he had been drinking. He was still wearing his work clothes, suit and jacket under his thick black overcoat, but his tie was gone and she knew it was either in his pocket or in his car.

As soon as he turned and saw her, Bobby asked, "Do you think I don't have anything?"

"What?" she asked in confusion. She was still in shock that he was in her living room.

"I mean, I've got everything I want and need. Yeah, it's not th-the, uh, the idealistic dream of most people but it's not like I never wanted any of it. I just knew my limitations, I knew my, my own weaknesses and how, uh, how I'm not a-a, an, the, uh, the most easiest man to live with. I'm difficult and I've got…Well you know, some problems, so…But that doesn't mean that I'm not living a meaningful life because I don't have, uh, have a wife or kids, right?"

Alex was only staring at him, lost in what to say as he started to pace from one side of the room to the other. She didn't even know why he was there yet alone what he was talking about.

He suddenly yelled in agitated frustration, "Right?!"

"Bobby," Alex tried to answer him but it was hard to do with his sudden mood. She didn't want to upset him more. "I think you first need to slow down and explain to me why you suddenly need some kind of verification for your life."

"Your brother-in-law," he finally snapped as he turned and charged into the kitchen.

"Terry?" she asked as she followed. He wasn't going to be slowing down anytime soon.

"He said that I have nothing to look forward to once I lose my job since I don't have a family to be there for me."

"He said that to you?" she asked in disbelief as she entered the kitchen stopped inside the entryway.

Bobby was opening and closing cabinets but not taking or even really looking to see what they contained. "Not directly. He was talking more about what his life would be like if he didn't have Liz and Nathan and then, you know, it got me thinking and I felt like I was being attacked. That he was indirectly implying that my life was shit compared to his." He smacked a cabinet door close before turning to her. "I love my life! I enjoy the freedom I have and my work."

"So if it's all you need and want then why are you getting so damn upset?"

Bobby stopped his heated tantrum as she said that. "It's the implication," he stressed in explanation.

"Or maybe because you no longer believe that."

They stared at each other for a long moment before he pushed himself off the counter he had leaned against. Bobby shook his head as he started for the living room. "Thinking about it, even considering it doesn't necessarily mean it's the right or best thing. Yeah, I've thought about all the what if's." Going over to her bookshelf he started reorganizing her books. "About marriage and children but every time I do I see…I see everything I'll have to change, or if I don't change the impact, the danger, that my family would be in because I'm a cop and because of my own reckless nature and-and heredity. Or I think about you know, what if I die and my wife has to raise our kid alone and then when the kid's like eighteen or something and his mind snaps, he develops some mental illness, th-that not only does my wife have to deal with that alone but all the other shit that goes along with it."

Alex covered her head as she moaned at his hysterics. "You worry more than any man I've ever known."

"That's because I've got a lot to worry about!" Bobby turned around as he shoved a book into an open slot. Alex hated it when he did that but she never stopped him from doing it. She had the books arranged by title and he always rearranged them by author and then in the order that the book was published. "It's all a possibility. We're cops, we can die tomorrow. And my family has a history of mental illness; it's not just my mother, I've got family members going back generations who were schizophrenic or bipolar or manic-depressive…suicidal depression. What if I have a kid that's like that, huh? Even if I'm not dead I couldn't deal with my child's mind turning on them and knowing that there's not a God damn thing I could do about it. Then putting that weight, that burden and fear an-and guilt, on you or someone else. I can't. I simply can not do that."

"Where is this coming from because I haven't once asked you to be a father?"

"No you haven't, but that doesn't mean that you don't want to be a mother. I know how hard this is for you, with your nephew and everything. I've noticed, and it hurts me to know that I'm incapable of giving you that because I'm too afraid."

"I don't think it's actually fear," she told him as she finally got her mind to clear from the alcohol she had been drinking. Alex steadied herself as she told him something that she had always thought but never voiced about him. "I've always thought that your strong sense of responsibility is nearly overwhelming at times. Sometimes you over-think it too much that you can't allow yourself to be responsible for anyone outside of your own self."

Bobby was taken back by that as he just looked at her. Finally, he seemed to respond as he smiled a little. "Is that such a bad thing?" he suddenly asked her but he didn't wait around for the answer. "I mean, I did take responsibility for my mother. I'm her legal guardian, I'm one hundred percent responsible for her health and well-being, and I've been that since I was a teenager. Yeah, it wasn't legal until I was old enough to actually make it legal but I've been my mother's provider and caretaker since I started working for my uncle at twelve. Since I could cook and clean and walk myself to school…but, yeah…Seeing myself responsible for anyone else outside of that seems significantly unbearable. I think, uh, I think I've exhausted myself with her that…that anyone else would be too much for me to handle. Terry was just talking bullshit but it sent me into a panic."

Alex nodded as she approached him, arms crossed with a tight smile on her face. She was trying to be strong and supportive for him. "I know. I understand that, I do." Going into his personal space, she wrapped her arms around his neck as she told him, "You don't have to justify yourself to me, but I'm glad that you came to me to talk about it instead of hiding. Instead of ignoring it and pushing me away without telling me why you're doing it, like you did last night. This is good. Overreacting or not, this is very, very good for us."

As he put his hands on the sides of her hips and pulled her close, Bobby tilted his head as he smiled a little. Despite what he had done and said in a matter of minutes since walking into her house, she suddenly felt that he was okay. "Was, um…" After swallowing a little, he asked, "Was that enough emotional connection for one night?"

Alex started laughing at him as she shook her head. "Oh, plenty."

"Good, 'cause it wore me out," he said as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Get a room."

She quickly broke the kiss and looked over to see Liz walking through the room on her way to the kitchen.

"Hey, uh, Liz," Bobby said and she could see his embarrassment.

"Bobby," Liz said as she turned the corner and was out of sight. "Don't mind me!"

Turning back to her, he asked, "When's she leaving?"

"In the morning. I'm not letting her drive back to Staten Island tonight. Sorry," Alex told him as she watched as he closed his eyes and groaned.

"I decided that I'm going to spend the morning with my mother," Bobby told her as he opened his eyes to be looking down at her. "That way I can have the whole afternoon and evening with you. I still gotta get something to put on that tree. If it's okay, I'll cook you Christmas Eve dinner and we can have the night together."

Alex smiled up at him before giving him a long, deep kiss. Pulling away, she told him, "I'll love that. Are you going to crash out here or go home?"

"Home. I don't think I want to deal with a hung-over Liz in the morning."

Alex laughed as she let him pull her into a bear of a hug. "Drive safe," she told him as he broke the hug and headed for the door. "Love you."

Bobby stopped at the door and looked back to her, smiling. "See you tomorrow," he told her before disappearing just as quickly as he had appeared in her house.

"That's one weird guy," Liz said as she walked back through the living room before heading back down the hall.

Alex only smiled in agreement. He was one weird guy, but she still loved him despite it all.

TBC…


	22. Christmas Eve

The following chapter is Rated **M…strong M **to be on safe side.

Enjoy!

* * *

The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He hadn't expected her to do that, but he hadn't been watching her flaying arms and fists. The syringe had been injected into her thigh and he cringed like always when he was there to witness that. So much for a Merry Christmas, he thought as he held his mother until her thrashing stopped and she eased into a peaceful, yet drugged induced, sleep.

Bobby reached up and wiped the blood off his lip with his handkerchief. The morning had gone okay. His mother had been responsive and vibrant, talking about the snow and how she loved the winter time and about Christmas's she had experienced in her youth with her parents and brother, cousins and Aunts and Uncles that he barely knew. The only relative of hers he had known, besides her parents, was her brother.

He had laughed along with her as she told him stories he hadn't heard since he was a kid. It was all the calm before the storm he had realized later on as she started to get more agitated, frustrated, and her mood had started to darken. Then, when he had presented her with the wrapped gift he had gotten her, she had turned. It happened in a split second and the next thing he knew his gift was on the floor and he had her arms, holding them down as she lost it. As her mind broke.

Looking at the floor, he spotted the box and knew that the content in the package could have very well been broken. With trying to figure out what in the hell to get his mother, he had remembered her love of musical jewelry boxes. He remembered as a kid, she would collect them and she would open them and hum along to the music as she got dressed up to go out with his father. That was all before it had gone to hell. In one of her delusions years later, she had broken all the boxes in a fit of anger.

Picking it up, Bobby thought that maybe it wasn't broken so he sat there on the bed with his mother still sedated in his arms and tore open the wrapping paper and broke the tape off the lid. Taking the jewelry box out, he lifted the lid and was relieved to hear it start to play. The music was soothing and it sounded like a children's song but he couldn't place it. He just remembered the tune from years ago, seeping through the cracked door to his parents bedroom as he peeked in to watch as she brushed her dark hair in the mirror.

Setting the box on the table next to the bed, he hoped she would like it and appreciate the thought that went into him getting it for her. He could have been a fool to hope for something like that from the woman, but he had never given up hope for the day that she saw him for who he truly was to her. That he was the only son she had that truly and deeply still loved and cared about her.

Bobby sat on the bed for a while as he closed his eyes and felt the soft breathing of the small thin woman in his arms. If she had been awake there was no way she would have ever let him hold her like that. It was a odd feeling, holding her. He felt like he was protecting her but there was no outside force threatening to harm her. Everything that threatened her was in her own head, in her mind, and he couldn't protect her from any of it.

As he sat there he couldn't help but replay Elliot's last words to him in his head. He had called him a masochist momma's boy: a whipping post for his sick mother. Bobby had tried not to think about it, take it in and analysis the implication of that remark, but he had. And the thing that scared him the most was the thought that maybe Elliot was right. He was his mother's whipping post.

He did endure her abuse and the pain she inflicted on him day after day, year after year, but he didn't enjoy it. There was no pleasure in it for him. The only thing he got out of it was knowing that he was trying his best to keep her. That he wasn't abandoning her and forgetting about her. He was there to let her know that someone still cared because he did still care. He still loved her.

A nurse came in but at seeing him still there, she turned and left the room. Bobby smirked, Doris knew when to leave him alone with his mother. She had been there the first day he had brought her to Carmel Ridge and she was there everyday he came to visit her since.

Closing his eyes once again, he pulled his mother tighter against his chest and held her like he had always wanted but never dared to since he was young. He had feared that if he ever hugged her again that he would break her, but she felt strong in his arms and that surprised him. Despite her tiny frame, she could still hold her own like always. For some odd reason, that made him smile. The old woman was tough, and from the throbbing in his jaw and the swell of his lip, she could still throw a mean right hook.

It wasn't until he was starting to feel too uncomfortable that he finally eased her down to the pillows and cover her with the blanket. Standing next to the bed, he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before turning to leave the room. As he shut the door behind him, he slumped back into it as his eyes closed against the swell of tears that burned and blurred his vision. Taking a deep breath, he shook it out of his chest as he let go of the doorknob, adjusted his jacket, smoothed out his clothes, readjusted his tie and then made his way out of the building.

As he existed into the parking lot, he cell vibrated in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw that he had one voicemail message. It was Alex.

"So, my mom made like a ton of Christmas cookies and chestnuts and peanut brittle. Then she wrapped it all up in tin cans and gave me two! I'm on way over to your place now and bringing it all, oh, and eggnog and rum that I picked up. We can have a nice night, just us, in front of your Christmas tree. Oh! I'm also bringing our gifts for each other over. No reason for us to keep them at my house. See you when you get home. Love you."

Bobby found himself smiling and laughing at that random message as he opened his car door. He couldn't wait to get home.

* * *

"What song do you want to be ours?"

Bobby looked up at her from untangling the lights as he she asked that. They were supposed to have a song? "I, uh, I don't…Um, whatever you want. Pick one."

Alex rolled her eyes at him. "I can't just pick one. It has to be one we both like. What was the first song we danced to together?"

Bobby searched his memory but couldn't come up with it. They had danced to so many songs for years he had no idea. "I don't like just picking one," he told her instead. "There are a lot of songs that remind me of you."

Alex smiled at that as she asked, "Which ones?"

"I don't know, a lot. Most of them."

At the moment, _Wild Horses _by The Rolling Stones was playing softly over the stereo. "How about this one," Alex asked as she took the lights from him and started wrapping them around the tree.

"No. This song reminds me of my mother."

She looked at him and Bobby had to duck his head at the shame he felt. "You have a song for your mother?"

Bobby shrugged. "Yeah, it reminds me of our relationship…My relationship, with her."

Alex gave him a weird look before shaking her head. "Okay, not this one."

It was getting late in the day and when he had returned home from visiting his mother, Alex had taken him right back out to get the lights and ornaments that were now adorning his tree. Bobby picked up the glass of scotch as he watched as she expertly wrapped the lights from bottom to top. If he had done that it wouldn't have looked nearly as good as she made it look. "Since I now have lights and stuff, that means I'm gonna have to get a tree every year."

Alex smiled down at him as she said, "That's a good thing. Do you want to put the star on top?"

"You can do it."

She picked up the star and then leaned down and grabbed his hand. "Get your ass up and put your star on your tree, Goren."

Bobby groaned but got up. Taking the star from her, he put it on top of the tree and connected it to the strand of lights before stepping back to make sure it was straight. "Nice." Sitting back down on the floor, he took another drink of the scotch, finishing it off, before putting the glass on the coffee table next to the tin can full of Christmas cookies.

The only gifts that were under the tree was the one he had taken over to her place last Saturday and the gift she had gotten him. Two gifts under a huge ass fir tree that was getting its needle-leaves all over his floor. This wasn't an apology gift, it had been a torture gift. He would be picking up little needles off his floor for weeks to come, finding them in odd places under his couch and entertainment center.

Alex turned on the lights and he leaned back against the front of the couch and looked up at it in awe. "You look like a big kid."

Bobby blinked back and smiled over at her. "I forgot how neat it can look." He stretched out on the floor where he was sitting and rested his head back on the cushions.

Alex sat down next to him and leaned against him. "It is neat. So, did you have fun?"

He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer into his side. Bobby looked into her eyes for a long moment before leaning down and kissing her, giving her his answer. Alex responded as she turned into him, deepening the kiss. Running his hands down her back, he felt her shiver against him before he grabbed her hips and pulled her over to him. She didn't hesitate to straddle his legs and press her body into his as they continued to kiss.

He didn't want a gift; all he wanted underneath him and his Christmas tree was her. His hands caressed along her back as he moved her shirt up until Alex broke the kiss and lifted her arms so he could take it off her. Tossing it somewhere behind him, he returned his lips to her skin as he felt the building pressure in his groin as she ground herself against him. Kissing over her neck and then down to her chest, he unclipped her bra and pulled it down until it slipped off her arms.

Alex moaned and pressed harder into him as he started kissing and sucking at her breasts. "Off, now," she demanded as she yanked his shirt out of his jeans.

Bobby stopped his assault on her nipples as he sat back to pull his shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him as well. He reclaimed the warm mouth that had become his home for years now and felt himself melt into her.

"Mmmm," Alex moaned around his lips as she met his bucking hips. "Mm, mm…Bobby," she finally got out as he released her mouth. "Bobby, I want you." Her hand grabbed him through his pants, making him hiss with pleasure. "Now."

He hurriedly got his jeans unbuttoned and yanked them off along with his boxers as Alex did the same, pulling her pants and panties off. Once she was resettled on his lap, she kissed over his forehead, cheeks, across his jaw, and up to his ear that nearly sent him into a frenzy. Her hot breath tickled his ear as she softly asked, "You want me?"

He was never ashamed of begging for it. And, God, how he wanted her. "Yes, please, Alex, baby…" Bobby stared lovingly into her stormy brown eyes. "Plea-" his voice broke as he felt her tight wetness move down on him, surrounding him in her warm walls. Watching as she took nearly all of him in, he could hardly believe it every time she did it. She was so small and still felt so tight around him. "Alex," he groaned as he bucked up into her, trying to get deeper inside. Once he was buried completely in her, he let out a deeply satisfied moaned.

Alex smiled back at him as she bent down to capture his mouth in a deep passionate kiss as she started to move.

"Oh, fu-" Bobby choked back as she pulled up before swallowing him down again. She was going to kill him.

He felt her hands roam over and up his chest before gripping his shoulders as she continued a steady slow rhythm up and down. Trailing his fingers over her sweaty neck, and down over her perfect breasts, he leaned down and took a harden nipple into his mouth.

Alex cried out and jerked against him as he sucked then bit the tip as it slid from his mouth. Easing the pain away, he sucked, licked, and rubbed at her breast until it was swollen. Then he started on the other one as he gripped her hip tightly as he pushed up into her hard as she came down on him.

"Faster," Alex suddenly pleaded as her hands tightened on his shoulders.

Bobby released her swollen nipple and pulled her into a lingering slow kiss. "Let me hear you, Alex. Ask me, beg me…Please, I wanna hear you."

Alex groaned against his lips before begging him, "Bobby…please, I want…I want…"

Bobby sucked hard at the spot where her shoulder met her neck, igniting a soft moan from her lips. Growling against her skin, he wrapped his arms tightly around her as he rolled her onto the floor and thrust hard up into her before easing slowly out. He was ready to come but he knew she wasn't there yet. He got up onto his forearms as he sucked, licked and kissed his way down her body. His tongue circled her naval before trailing after his fingertips down to her hot center, tasting her juices.

"Bobby," Alex nearly whined out his name as she pushed against him. "Yes…Unh, yes…Bobby."

Hearing the husky pleasure in her voice urged him on. This was what he wanted to do to her. Love her and make her happy; he wanted her to feel the same joy and pleasure in herself that she sparked in him. Just seeing her face in pure unashamed pleasure as her eyes bore a mixture of love, lust, and desire into him while he slid his tongue as deep as it would go into her and making her cry out as she came was the most amazingly erotic thing he had ever seen in his life.

Bobby drank all of her in, savory every precious drop she had given him. Alex's hands gripped him up by his hair, pulling him to her awaiting mouth. The feel of her tongue tasting herself from his mouth was too much. He pushed back into her and then barely pulled out before he thrust again, and again; his hips pounded hers, driving her into the floor as her nails dug into his back and he felt his muscles tighten at the sensation. He was riding that edge, ready to come. He wanted to be so deep in her when he did, filling her completely.

Alex suddenly arched up into him; her walls collapsing around him as her body tensed and then shook. A hoarse, husky cry trembled from her lips and he saw tears stream from her eyes. Groaning back at the tight walls that convulsed around him, he kept thrusting, this time slower and deeper until she came again. Feeling her warm sweetness pulse and clenched around him the second time sent Bobby over that edge.

He buried himself in her one last time as he came, jerking hard into her and spilling himself in the depths of her body. His gasping slowed as he pulled out of her; moaning at the loss of her surrounding him, Bobby rolled onto his back and sucked air into his burning lungs. "Jesus, Alex…"

Looking over at her, he noticed that she was having just as much trouble breathing as he was. Turning onto his side, he pulled her into his arms and rested his head on her sweaty shoulder. One look at her slack satisfied face was enough to make him hard all over again. He adored that look. Wiping the hair that was sticking to her face away, he kissed her over her cheek, chin, forehead, and nose before lightly kissing her swollen lips. "You okay?"

She nodded a little before staring up into his eyes. "I can't believe, we made love, on your living room floor."

Bobby smiled at her breathlessness as he kissed her again. "Neither can I," he told her. "It's hard wood. I didn't hurt your back did I?"

"I'm not sure just yet. Let's hope Elliot doesn't walk in on us."

Bobby thought about Elliot for a brief second before shaking his head. "He's gone until after Christmas. He's got family he's staying with." That and he wasn't expecting him back because of the fight they had. "C'mon," he said as he went to get up," this floor is getting cold."

Alex didn't object as they got up onto the couch. Bobby pulled the blanket that was lying on the back of it around them and held her tightly to him as she laid on top of him.

"That is a nice tree," she suddenly told him again.

Bobby looked over and took it all in again. "Yeah. Kind of makes me wish I didn't have to throw it out in a few days." Her hand was rubbing over his chest and he closed his eyes at the feel of it. She was so warm on top of him that he was starting to relax completely into the cushions.

As he laid there with his eyes closed he let himself take all of her in. The feel of her skin, the warmth of her body, her smell and her breathing, it all took him in and trapped him in the safety it created. He felt his body sinking as the thoughts in his mind lifted. Before he realized it, the darkness overtook him and he was asleep.

* * *

"I'm going to have to go with Marilyn Monroe."

"Why is it that every man has a fascination with Marilyn Monroe?"

Bobby sat his book down on his chest as he peered down at her. "Have you seen her?"

Alex rolled her eyes at him but was smiling. "All right, and actually, I like her too. And as for my answer, and keeping with your icons of sex appeal, I'll say…Steve McQueen."

Bobby smiled a little as he brought the book back up. "The 'King of Cool'…I can see that."

"You're not jealous?" she teased.

"Of Steve McQueen?" He sat up a little to look down the bed at her. "I've got one word for you: _Bullitt_," he told her before leaning back and returning his attention back to the book.

They were lying on his bed enjoying the quiet night with each other as the snow fell outside the window. Next to the bed was the cart he usually had in the middle of his kitchen. Alex had the bright idea to take all the pans out from under it and move it into the bedroom. Sitting on the top of the cart was the eggnog with rum Alex had mixed together as well as a platter with cookies, peanut brittle, and chestnuts her mother had made for them. On the bottom shelf of the cart was his bottle of Glenlivet along with a bottle of red wine that Alex had insisted on having. She had told him that ever since she could drink she had brought in Christmas with a bottle of red wine. It was a regular Alex Eames tradition.

He was propped up against the headboard with a worn copy of the Herman Hesse novel _Steppenwolf_ in its original German text. It was his favorite of all Hesse's stories and for some reason he liked to read it around the holidays. So every year, spanning from Thanksgiving to Christmas, he would find the time to read it. The main character in the novel, Harry Haller, was one that he had always seemed to identify with.

Haller was a lost soul who suffered in his understanding of humanity; he felt he himself was of two natures, a man and a wolf; the wolf being his alter ego. As man, he would over-analysis but never truly understand his self, his spirit and soul. He over-intellectualized his life and existence, ultimately self-exiling himself from society and into thoughts of suicide. As wolf, he was drawn to his most animalistic and primitive parts of his needs and desires. Haller wanted to live as the wolf and be free of social normalcy and conventions. The conflict between his two natures was the driving force throughout the novel as Haller struggled with never being content with either half; that was until he went on a quest to discover meaning in his life. To experience love, spirituality through Buddhism, and discovery of self.

Alex was lying the other way, with her head toward the foot of the bed and her feet literally propped up on his bare stomach. His right leg was hanging off the bed while his left was wrapped around her right and tucked under her left knee. Periodically, to mess with him, she would rub him through his boxers with her foot, causing him to grab her foot and either tickle it or massage it, whichever he felt in the mood to do.

At the moment he was really trying to read the conversation between Haller and Hermine in the dancehall but Alex kept asking him questions out of the Cosmopolitan magazine she was reading. Some questions came directly from what she was reading, others he knew she was making up just to hear what he would come up with. The last question she asked was what famous actress, past or present, would he have sex with. In his mind the only logical and sexually appealing actress he could think of was Marilyn Monroe. He had always had a crush on the icon of sex appeal since he was twelve, when girls first started to interest him. And now he couldn't concentrate. He was thinking of fucking Marilyn Monroe and then Alex was moving her foot again, rubbing at his hardening erection over his boxers.

"Am I getting you interested?"

Bobby groaned as he peered down at her. Even though she was hiding her face behind the magazine he could see her chest moving from her quiet laughter. "You're getting me frustrated," he said as he grabbed her foot and started working his fingers and thumbs deep into the muscles. "You got me thinking about having sex with Marilyn Monroe."

"Well at least it's not Steve McQueen." For that he started tickling her. "Ah! Bobby!" She was struggling with him to get her foot away. "Stop," she pleaded through her uncontrollable laughter.

He smiled a little as he stopped and gave her foot a quick massage before working on the other foot. The glass of scotch he had sitting on the nightstand had been forgotten until he looked over to the see what time it was and spotted it. He picked it up and took a sip of the liquor before going back to massaging her foot. It was almost eleven. "One more hour until Christmas."

"Think Santa will come?"

Bobby chuckled as he dropped her foot and picked up his book. "Only if you're naughty."

Alex lowered her magazine and challenged him with a look. He just laughed. "Okay, next question."

"Can't wait," he sarcastically told her as he tried once again to get the page read that he had been staring at for five minutes.

"Favorite sexual position?"

Bobby blinked back at the words that blurred in front of him. This was useless; he tossed the book to the floor as he eyed Alex as she teased him again with her foot. "Uh…all of them."

Alex was laughing so hard she couldn't answer. Finally she said, "That's not fair, you took my answer."

Bobby couldn't help but chuckle as he took the glass off the nightstand and finished it off. "No, no, come on, you have to do better than that. You asked the question, and you said at the beginning of this that we can't duplicate answers. So, c'mon, favorite position?"

Alex started to get red from her cheeks on down. "I like all the ones that bring me pleasure."

Bobby shook his head but didn't press the issue. "Okay, I'll get more detailed. Uhmmm, let's see…when you're on top, riding me."

"Less work for you," she teased and he shot her a glare. She only grinned before looking at the magazine.

"How many other sexual partners have you had?"

Bobby suddenly stilled as his teasing faded. "I'm not answering that," he seriously told her.

Alex lowered the magazine and looked over at him. "Why not? I'm not going to get mad at you. I know what you were like before. You were a dog, still are a dog, but at least you're a loyal one."

Bobby seemed to breathe easier but he was still uncomfortable with answering.

She must have realized his unease because she rolled her eyes at him then asked, "Okay, just to age 30, how many?"

He still didn't like the question, but they had agreed to answer all the questions. Bobby breathed out as he thought about it and finally, with a lot of reluctance, he told her, "Well, from the time I lost my virginity at 14, to age 30, I, uh….I had been with, um….twenty women."

"Twenty?" Alex asked in surprise.

"Yeah, but, when you think about it, it's not that bad," he tried to explain. "I mean, okay, say from age 20 to 30, ten years, that'd be 2 women a year…so, from 14 to 30.…twenty women, it's plausible without being you know, horrible."

"Bobby, do you know how many men I've slept with by the time I was 30? Four, and the forth guy was Joe. And then after Joe it was one other guy before you. I've been with six men," Alex told him.

He knew that she wasn't trying to make an argument out of it. She was just letting him know, but he took it defensively anyway because of his own guilt and shame with not having any inhibitions when it came to sleeping with women. "Well, you were married. And you're a woman." At the look she shot him he knew that _that_ was the wrong thing to say. "I'm just saying that you have more self-control than me when it comes to having sex. And I was a young man in the Army. Traveling around the world, and you know, it was nearly impossible not to want to be with someone whenever I got the chance to."

"Okay, I get that, but what about after you were 30?"

Bobby stared down at her and felt the heat of embarrassment and shame creep up his neck. "I'm not going to apologize for having a sex life before you."

"Good, because I don't want you to, and it's okay for me to know."

"I don't think you should, because the most important thing is that we're together, we love each other, and that you're the only woman I'm having sex with."

Alex went silent and that was when Bobby realized what he had said. "You said that you love me."

Bobby shook his head suddenly. "I said…" he couldn't even put up an argument. He had said it and he couldn't take it back, and this time he didn't want to. "Yeah, I did. We do love each other so, yeah, that means, you know…it's mutual."

She was laughing at him now as he started to get frustrated again, and it wasn't just at his blundering expression of love for her. Bobby leaned up and ladled out into his empty glass some of the eggnog she had made. Downing most of it, he settled back against the pillows as he closed his eyes. He couldn't get the novel out of his head.

He had a feeling that he was currently experiencing the same journey as Harry Haller. There he was, Bobby Goren, a half-man half-lion who needed to shatter his soul into fragmented pieces to finally be able to experience life, to understand his self. Maybe he should become a Buddhist. He actually started to laugh at the thought.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm great, babe, how are you?" he asked as he downed the rest of the eggnog/rum concoction Alex came up with. It was delicious.

"Oh, just dandy," she answered back before asking, "How often does your partner masturbate?"

"At least once a day," he answered as he placed the glass back on the nightstand.

Alex stared over at him at his quick and thoughtless answer. "Once a day? Every day?"

Bobby nodded a little. "Just about every day, depends on if you're with me both in the morning and evening or not." At the shocked look she gave him, he explained, "I wake up half-cocked and ready to go. If you're here, I don't need to. If you aren't, that's what the shower's for."

Alex rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. "Ever hear of self-control?"

"Ever hear of not wasting a perfectly good erection?" Bobby had to act quick as she drew her foot back then shot it forward. He trapped her leg between his, keeping her from kicking him in his groin, as he started laughing so hard it brought tears to his eyes. "C'mon," he said once he could speak, "your turn."

Alex blushed bright red and he started laughing again.

"Self-control my ass, Eames." Suddenly he looked down and grabbed her foot, stopping her from pulling it away. Bobby held her foot in place along his length as he asked, "How long's your foot?"

Alex started laughing as she looked down her body at him. "You're not serious are you? I wear a size six."

Smirking Bobby, told her, "I'm about two inches longer than your foot. You know that the average length of a man's penis fully erect is anywhere from five to six inches."

She pressed her foot harder into him, making him groan, as she said, "So I guess you're above average."

Bobby chuckled as he felt her foot rubbed along him. It was the weirdest thing ever yet it felt so good he didn't want her to stop. "That's just the length, I haven't even gotten to the width yet."

"Can we please stop talking about your penis? What else do men talk about besides sex and women."

"Death and taxes," Bobby sarcastically told her right back. "Sex, death, and taxes, the three most inevitable things in life." At seeing her trying to ignore him, he let go of her foot as he started to move down the bed. "Okay, lets talk about something more interesting, like…your vagina." Bobby leaned over her as he stretched out on top of her body as she started laughing so hard tears were forming in her eyes. "Like how you can take all of me over and over and not be impaled to death," he said as he grabbed the magazine she had been reading.

"Hey! I'm reading that," she yelled but her laughter betrayed her malice.

"Not anymore," Bobby said as he tossed the magazine across the room. Looking down at Alex, he told her, "You've been teasing me all night."

"That's because you've been ignoring me since you took me on your floor earlier today. And sorry," she said as she playfully pushed him away. "I got a headache."

"Um-hum, did you know that during orgasm, endorphins are released that are a powerful painkiller which helps cure headaches." Bobby moved his legs in-between hers and spread them open wide as he nestled against her.

Alex stared up at him and shook her head, "I guess that age old excuse of 'I've got a headache' is no longer going to work."

"Nope; instead of suggesting Tylenol, I'll be saying, 'c'mere, baby, I gotta cure for you'." Her laughing was interrupted by his tongue as he kissed her deeply. Lifting his head back, breaking the kiss, Bobby stared down into her eyes as he asked, "So, Alexandra Eames, what's your favorite sexual position?"

Alex chuckled at him but she pulled his head down so she could whisper in his ear, "I like it when you get me on my stomach."

Bobby closed his eyes and groaned into her neck as he felt himself get harder at that admission. She was killing him because even though he had told her he liked it when she was on top, which was amazing, he loved it more when he rolled her onto her stomach and came at her with abandon from behind. Kissing her along her neck, he tugged her tank-top up until she had to sit up a little to get it over her head. She hadn't been wearing a bra and he didn't hesitate as he lowered his mouth to her breasts. He made her squirm under him for awhile as he teased her nipples and palmed her until she finally pleaded for him to take her.

Obeying her, he ran his hands up her sides then down to her hips as he turned her over onto her stomach. His eyes took in her soft smooth back all the way down to her thighs as he slipped off his boxers and kicked them to the floor. At feeling himself shiver at the desire that filled him, he pulled her shorts down then off before he massaged and squeezed her cheeks; she hadn't been wearing any panties either. Alex was trying to kill him, he just knew it.

He closed his eyes as he ran his hands up her back, over her shoulders, and then down her front as he lifted her up into him. Pushing her legs out wider, he moved his hand down over her center rubbing at the wetness that pulsed there before entering her slowly. Her breath hitched as he rubbed her at the same time he filled her completely.

Bobby couldn't breathe and he had to stop for a moment to gather his control or else this would be over all too quickly. Her own need was radiating off her as she shook under him and moaned loudly as he eased back before filling her again ever so slowly. His hand was constantly moving between her body and the mattress, caressing over her breasts and stomach, then around to her hip that he gripped to pull her back against him as he sped up in pace.

Alex then surprised him by pushing up, getting on her hands and knees, while voicing her desire for him to take her faster, harder. At watching her he nearly froze before he groaned as his passion and hunger was fueled. He gripped her hips with both hands and with as much self-restraint as possible he began fucking her.

The restraint didn't last long as she was crying out, nearly screaming at the pleasurable pain he was causing her. He himself was nearly cursing out the aching, painful sensation that mixed wonderfully with the building ecstasy that was filling him. His eyes clenched shut at as he willed himself to hold it, to wait until she came. He was so close it was driving him crazy and he felt himself break as her forgot himself as he pounded harder and faster into her.

"Ugh, God…oh, Bobby, Bobby!" her screaming broke, strangled by her orgasm as he felt her come, and she came hard, collapsing around him.

Bobby felt his entire world shatter as he drove one last time deep into her as all that pain and love inside of him imploded, rocking his body, heart, and soul. He was done for, completely lost and gone within the souring burst of pleasure that enraptured him. It was all too much. He had never felt an orgasm that strongly before, it nearly killed his heart.

As he slowed his breathing, and finally got his mind back to the world around him, he felt her under him. Alex was breathing fast, hard, and her entire body was quivering. "Am I hurting you?" he breathed out as he pushed himself up on his forearms.

"No…I just," she could barely speak and her words were slightly slurred. "I think I went deaf and blind for moment."

Bobby stared down at the side of her face her could see. She was smiling but it wasn't at him, it was at the feeling she was experiencing. As he thought about it, he thought maybe he had done the same. His head was dizzy, his ears had a faint ring in them, he was seeing spots, his body was spent yet satisfied, and his heart was pounding so loud and fast he thought he was going to have a heart attack. It felt amazing. "We've got to do that more often."

She started laughing at him as he collapsed next to her. He rested his head on her back as he rubbed at her muscles, trying to ease the quivering. "What'd you want to do now?"

Bobby breathed out against her skin before kissing over her back, up her spine, and to her neck. They were both slick with sweat and the stickiness was getting more than a little uncomfortable. "I need a bath."

Alex turned onto her side as she met his kiss with her mouth. Rolling her onto her back, he spread his body out on top of her and felt himself melting, mending with her body, her spirit. His love for her was rupturing within him as they lazily kissed with no real purpose other than to kiss, to stay united.

When he broke the kiss to get a breath, Alex tilted her head and started kissing over his neck. The sensation shook him as he closed his eyes. He couldn't help the groan that rumbled at the back of his throat at the jolt of electricity it sent throughout his body. Her lips and tongue worked over all the right spots that made him squirm over her as he felt himself getting excited all over again. Then when he felt her warm breath tickling his ear, his own breath hitched as he bucked against her hip at the same moment she nipped and kissed over it.

Of all the spots to touch him, to kiss him, that was the one that sent him over the edge. Alex knew that if she was serious about getting him going all she had to do was touch his ear. It turned his head and sent a wave of pleasure all the way down to his groin. Spreading her legs wide once again, he ran his hand over the small of her back and lifted her up as he pushed into her. He wasn't as solid and hard as he wanted to be, but as he slowly moved in and out of her he felt himself getting stiffer with each thrust.

Alex closed her eyes as she gave a soft moan. It was nice, after the fast and furious fuck they just had, to take it nice and slow. To make love to each other and build up slowly to the shattering release. His hands were touching, massaging her everywhere from her legs and thighs to her back and chest, her face and to her lips as she kissed over his palm and then sucked at his fingers and thumb while he sucked at her breasts.

It was a long, painfully slow act, with neither one of them rushing to get to that moment of oblivion. When it came, they wanted the intensity of it to be a shock to them both. Bobby was shivering, his muscles shaking, with each passing minute as he would slow his pace even more to ward off the urge to go faster, to come. At one point, he was barely moving inside of her but she didn't mind as she kissed over his lips, his face, and down his neck. Whatever pace he set, Alex would move along with him as her hands kneed and worked at his tensing muscle in his arms, his back.

When it happen, when he tensed and groaned into her neck as he was overcome with his orgasm, it had took him by surprise. The explosion of pleasure had crept up and when it hit him it hit hard and it felt like it lasted for hours. He kept moving inside her as she came along with him, unable to get even a squeak out of her constricting throat.

The comedown felt like he was floating, as if waking from a dream. He didn't even know if he was still awake or not until he felt her arms wrapping around him and holding him tight. He heard her beating heart ease as he felt the rise and fall of her breathing body under his. Getting his eyes open, he saw her face slack with exhaustion but glowing with light and love; it broke his heart all over again.

Neither one of them wanted to move, to get up, to leave each other's bodies but now he was really sweaty, coated in it. Bobby turned his head and looked back down the bed, toward the nightstand, and saw the time on the alarm clock. It was after midnight. They had been making love for a little over an hour. "Merry Christmas, Alex," he told her as he turned back to her and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Alex smiled up at him as she pulled him down into a tight embrace. "Merry Christmas, Bobby."

They held each other until they both felt the heavy thick invisible blanket of sleep engulfing them. Pulling himself out of the darkness that threatened to overtake him, he mumbled against her neck, "Join me for a bath."

She was silent for a moment and he thought that maybe she had fallen asleep when she answered, "Okay."

Ten minutes later they were in his bathtub. The tub that he had in his apartment was the best in the world. It was an old cast iron claw-foot bathtub and the guy that had sold it to him when he first moved into the apartment had told him that he had welded it together from two different tubs, making it longer and wider. With his six foot four long body, it was the perfect and most wonderful tub he ever had. The length went from one wall to the other and he didn't even touch the sides with his body. He was leaning back against it, resting his head against the wall as Alex rested on him. His right hand lazily rubbed over her stomach under the water while she laid her head on his chest.

The water came up to just over her breasts, which was the middle of his chest, and it was hot. He barely added any cold water to it and it felt wonderful. Alex had brought the bottle of red wine and two glasses with her and she was sipping on her glass as his was dangling in his left hand over the side of the tub. He didn't care about drinking anymore; he cared about her and what she was doing and had done to him.

He closed his eyes, feeling his whole body relax in the hot water, and felt something he hadn't felt in such a long time. In that moment he felt happy. It was the best Christmas gift he could have ever received. Bringing the glass up to his lips, he finished off the wine before placing the glass down on the floor and then preceded to move his hands around her as he hugged her from behind.

Then for some odd reason, he started to hum. It was soft at first, a tune he had been hearing in his head nearly all day, as he caressed her skin from her stomach up to her breasts then back down again.

Alex chuckled a little before saying, "_Silent Night_, one of my favorites."

Bobby kissed her temple as he told her, "You know, it was originally written in German by an Austrian priest, Father Joseph Mohr. _Stille Nacht._" Bringing his hands up, he started massaging her shoulders as he continued to hum out the tune. _"All is calm, all is bright…"_ He ran that lyric over and over in his head and felt himself smile. "I always liked the 'all is calm' part," he told her and didn't know why.

"All is calm," she told him as she moaned and leaned her head forward, giving him full access to the back of her neck. "You're so good to me."

Bobby smiled slightly as he kissed at her shoulder and then her neck while he massaged at the back of it. "I'm not that good, could be better."

She suddenly grabbed his hand and looked back at him. Staring into his eyes, Alex told him, "You are good, Bobby, you make me feel good."

Bobby knew that she was telling him the truth, that she felt he was good to her, but he knew the lies he was telling and the secrets he was keeping that was hurting him, hurting them. He knew the thoughts that were plaguing his mind and keeping him from truly connecting with her. He didn't know if the pain he felt was shown in his eyes or not, but it didn't matter. There was always some kind of pain in them, hidden in his dark pupils. Giving her a soft kiss on the lips, he hoped to savage the remnants of the sense of happiness he had been feeling moments before but it was too late.

The feeling was gone, and as he released her lips, all he could feel was the guilt and pain that he was letting her down. Another glass of wine and maybe he could ease the turmoil that had settled within his being. She was watching him as he refilled the glass and as he sat the bottle back on the floor, Alex turned on her side and laid her head over his chest, listening to his heart beating, and closed her eyes.

He had to wake her when the water was starting to turn lukewarm. Alex moaned into him as he sat up, bringing her along with him. Taking the soap and washcloth, he began a slow and meticulous cleansing of her body from her neck down. By the time he was done cleaning them both the water was cold. He dried off first and wrapped a towel around him waist before helping Alex out and drying her off. She was barely awake and it made him smile. He had worn her completely out.

Wrapping his robe around her body, he lead her down the hall with his hands on her waist and to the bed where she collapsed and was instantly asleep. Last year, one of the gifts Alex had given him was a pair of Christmas boxer shorts. They were black and had Snoopy from the Charlie Brown cartoons on them dressed in a Santa hat. He figured he would rather have a dog on his shorts instead of Linus or Charlie Brown. Pulling them out of his top drawer, he slipped them on and turned toward the bed.

He found himself staring down at her sleeping form with the sudden urge to wake her and tell her everything. To say to hell with the operation and protecting her and feeling in control by confessing it all out to her, but he knew that he couldn't. It was his burden and his alone; he couldn't and wouldn't be responsible for laying it on her no matter how much it was killing him keeping it from her. He knew that she was aware of it at least, but he still couldn't get himself to divulge anything to her; to put it out there in the open.

Instead of giving into the urge, he pulled the covers back, somehow getting it out from under Alex without waking her, and then covered her with it. Once he was buried under the covers along side her, he watched her sleep for a long time as he thought about the day and all that had happened. In a few hours, he would be up again and celebrating the holiday with her family. Bobby felt the smile pull at his lips at that and was a little surprised by it. He was actually looking forward to visiting the Eames family.

Closing his eyes, he pulled her close into his chest and buried his face into the warmth of her neck as he drifted off to sleep.

TBC…


	23. Wouldn't be Christmas without surprises

A/N: Thanks again and again everyone for the wonderful reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

The air around him was thick and heavy and it was getting harder to breathe. His body was shivering, muscles jerking and there was a pressure growing and building deep within him. There was something that felt good on him, around him. It was wet, warm, and the pressure was driving him crazy as he groaned and gasped. The heat was spreading up from his groin, igniting his entire body.

As the darkness of sleep lifted, he became aware of one single thing. He was being given the oral treatment by a wonderfully talented mouth. "Alex," he gasped as his mind woke and his body responded.

Automatically his hand went to the back of her head as he bucked up. Hi eyes clenched closed as he felt her take him deeper. Her hands pushed him back down, keeping him in place and he willed himself to do just as she wanted. With every movement of her head up he would grip her hair tighter before releasing it as she went back down. His other hand tried to grab onto something as his body shook and pulsed with the urge to thrust.

Pulling at the sheets, the side of the bed, and then finally the top of the headboard, he let himself be completely at her will as she ravished him. It was getting harder to think and to even take in a breath of air as he felt the tightening of his body, the stirring of pressure in his groin and the heat erupting from his gut. He came as she whirled her tongue and sucked hard.

Gripping her tightly, he nearly screamed but what jumbled out of his trembling mouth was "Oh, God, Alex," over and over until he couldn't catch his breath. She didn't back down or stop him until she took all of him in and when he felt her swallow around him he gasped out in a near sob as he tensed and came again.

He laid trembling as he she crawled up his body. Resting on top of him, Bobby held her against him as he rode through the shaking. When he could breath again, and his legs didn't feel like deadweight, he breathed out, "That was, incredibly unexpected."

Alex was kissing him over his jaw, his neck, and up to his ear as she whispered into it, "See, now you don't have to do it yourself in the shower."

Bobby couldn't help it, he started laughing. Hugging her tighter, he told her what he had been considering for days now. Weeks, actually. "If you're going to keep waking me up like that, maybe you should move in."

Alex laughed into his chest and took it as a joke. "Yeah, that'll be the day," she sarcastically told him without realizing how serious he was.

He rubbed at her back and turned them onto their sides. Moving her hair out of her face, he gave her a kiss on her lips. Bobby looked into her eyes as he told her, "No, I'm serious." He breathed out as he closed his eyes and got the words out of his dry mouth, "Cohabitate with me."

She didn't say anything for a long, long moment. Bobby opened his eyes and watched as she seemed to shake herself out of the shock before she stumbled out, "What? You're…you're serious?"

Okay, maybe she was still in shock. His hands started running up and down her back as he tried to relax her while explaining, "Yeah. I want you, I want you to be here. Before, I didn't think I would…I mean, that was never even a consideration. The idea scared me, but then, ya know, Elliot moved in and I got used to the company and now he's moving out and I'm…I-I, uh, I know that you've been wanting to move since after what happened, so, I was thinking that, that, um, that you can live here…with me."

The fear gripped him again when she didn't say anything. She could reject him and that would be heartbreaking, but he didn't want her to do something that she didn't want to do. "You don't have to, but…" If she said no, he would deal. "It's your decision."

Bobby thought that she was going to reject him until she was on him, kissing him so hard and deeply that she pushed him onto his back. When she broke the kiss, he heard her say, "I would love to move in with you."

The feeling of love that ruptured in his heart was nearly too much to bear as he heard that. Pulling her to him, he kissed her over and over as he turned her onto her back and sank his tongue into her welcoming mouth. Alex was going to live with him…_Holy shit._ Breaking the kiss, Bobby smiled down at her as he told her, "I'm glad you said yes because that was the only other Christmas gift I had for you."

Alex only smiled before bringing him down for another long, loving kiss. She then pushed him up and turned him onto his back. Settling on top of him, she attacked his mouth as she stretched out over his body. As their tongues tasted each other he felt her move her leg between his, over his groin and then…"Bobby?" she asked when she broke the kiss.

She was staring down at him with a bemused smile on her face. He didn't find anything in that moment funny. Bobby groaned and closed his eyes as she chuckled and leaned her forehead on his. "What'd you expect? You woke me up with the best blowjob I've had in years."

"You're saying this is my fault?"

Bobby glared into her eyes as he told her, "Yes. I won't be able to get it up for at least a couple more hours." Looking at the clock, he blinked back and sat up, bringing her along with him. "It's only four? Eames," he groaned and fell back down. "No wonder, I've only had three hours of sleep and then you…Why'd you wake me up? Why are you awake?"

"It's Christmas morning," she told him as she kissed over his chest. "I'm always excited and can't sleep. I'm usually the first one over to my parents house."

Bobby wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as he rolled them back on their sides. Kissing over her forehead, he told her, "And you say I'm the big kid in this relationship." Closing his eyes, he buried his head into the pillow as he tried to go back to sleep.

"Oh!"

He barely parted his eyelids to glare at her as she turned the light on.

Alex picked up a glass of water and handed it to him along with two aspirin. "Take 'em; you're going to need all the help you can get today."

Bobby sat up and took the pills because she was right. He was going to have a hangover in the morning. Laying back down, he once again closed his eyes and tried to drift in the warmth of the woman beside him.

"What were you dreaming about?"

Bobby groaned. "Don't remember, but right now I'm dreamin' 'bout sleepin'," he mumbled into the pillow. "Join me." Feeling her chuckle against his body, he softly smiled.

A couple of hours later he woke to an empty bed. Running his hand over the spot where Alex had been, he felt the warm sheets as he heard the shower going down the hall. Groaning into the sheets, he closed his eyes and felt tempted to stay in bed all day. He heard the hum of the heater kick on and felt the warm air start to spread over his body.

The water shut off down the hall and then a few minutes later the sound of Alex opening the door. Opening his eyes, he watched as she walked down the hallway toward him. She only wore a navy blue bath towel that was wrapped around her body from her chest down pass her knees.

"Wake-y, wake-y," she said as she knelt on the bed to kiss him.

He moved fast as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him.

"Ah! Bobby!" she yelped as he rolled her over until he had her pinned down. She started laughing as he kissed over her face, neck, and down to her chest. "I just showered," she was trying to tell him.

"See, now that is your fault," he told her as he ran his hand up along her thigh, under the towel, and then as he pushed two fingers into her, kissed her deeply.

A while later, Bobby finished cleaning himself up in the bathroom and took two more aspirin before going out into the living room with his robe pulled tight around him. He was rubbing at the back of his head as he glanced over at the tree and stopped. The lights on the tree were on and it looked like what every Christmas morning should look like, amazing. The blinds were open and he could see beyond the tree and at the snow that was outside on the sidewalk and street. Then, running by the window, he saw the neighborhood kids playing in the snow.

Alex had walked by him and went over to his stereo, turning it on. Flipping through the stations, she stopped on the one that was playing Christmas music before turning back to him. He was still standing, with his hand resting on the back of his neck, staring at the tree. For the first time in a very, very long time he felt happy and excited on Christmas morning.

His eyes dropped down to the two small gifts that were under it and he smiled a little. Bobby finally turned and went toward the kitchen but not before grinning over at Alex. Going into the kitchen, he put on a pot of coffee before pulling out the bacon and eggs and then grabbed the box of pancake mix to start making breakfast.

As the bacon fried he poured the pancake batter onto the skillet and sipped at a cup of coffee. Alex had been mysteriously absent from the kitchen and when he heard her come in, he looked and saw that she had put her silk pajamas on. Before she was barely clothed wearing just her bra and panties.

She filled a cup with the coffee as she watched him cook. While stirring in some sugar she asked, "Did you use the word cohabitate so that I'll still know that we weren't getting married?"

Bobby flipped the pancakes over and then took a wary glance at her.

Alex smirked and shook her head. "I'm onto you, Goren." Smirking, he went back to making them breakfast as she took his cup and topped it off with more coffee. Handing it to him, she pushed up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "As long as I got you, that's all that matters."

Bobby had to put the cup down so he could pull her into his side. Leaning down, he kissed her on the lips, thanking her. He had yet to say anything, lost in his emotions and the thoughts that were swirling around his head. He didn't know quite what to say to everything that had happened that morning. Her saying yes to living with him and the tree in his living room and knowing that in a few hours he would be at her parents house with her family celebrating the day together, it was all overwhelming.

"For a man who is clearly hung over, you're very productive this morning. Bacon, eggs, pancakes and coffee."

"I wasn't that drunk," he defended himself.

Alex stared up at him as she said, "Bobby the only time you ever say anything remotely vulgar is when you're drunk. You were measuring your penis against my foot."

He nearly spat the coffee that was in his mouth all over the pancakes. Covering his mouth and swallowing through a fit of coughs, he reached to turn the burner off as he got his tried to breathe. Once he was under control, he said, "I, uh, I was hoping we could forget that."

Once the food was done, he went back into his bedroom and rolled out the cart into the living room. Picking up a cookie out of the tin can on top of it, he went back into the kitchen while eating it. Taking out a couple of trays, he filled two plates with the bacon and pancakes before adding the carton of orange juice, two glasses, and the pot of coffee to it before carrying it all out into the living room with Alex's help.

Alex followed while laughing at his antics. "Breakfast in front of the Christmas tree, how romantic."

Laughing a little, he couldn't help it; he wanted to enjoy the feeling he was experiencing because he had no idea how long it would last. After he sat the tray down on the coffee table, he went over to the his front door and opened it, letting in the morning air and sunlight. It was still early, around seven, but there was enough light breaking through the buildings to light his entryway. Opening the glassed in screen door, he bent down and picked up the paper as a kid went riding by on a bicycle and from the look on the kids face the bike had to have been a Christmas present.

Alex was sprawled out on the floor and pouring syrup over the pancakes as he walked back in. "Your hair is sticking up," she told him as she smiled a little.

Running his hand through his hair, he made it worse and she only laughed. Tossing the paper on the couch, he sat down next to her and prepared his plate as he grabbed a piece of bacon and started to eat. "Wanna open your gift now?" he finally asked as he looked over at her.

Holding her hand out, she said, "Gimmie."

Chuckling, he leaned over and reached for their gifts that were under the tree. Picking them up, he sat back up and handed her the gift he had gotten for her. Leaning back against the couch, he watched as she unwrapped the jewelry box and then opened the lid.

Her eyes widened at the set of earrings and necklace he had gotten her. It had taken him a while, but he had finally settled on the pair of diamond studs earrings and the white gold necklace which held a single diamond.

Smiling he told her, "They reminded me of you; simple yet…stunning to look at."

Alex looked to him, saying, "I love them."

She went back to looking at them as she picked up the diamond necklace and looked at it. "I know what I'm wearing today." Bobby continued to watch her until she turned to him and asked, "Aren't you going to open yours?"

Looking down at the box in his hand, he had almost forgotten that he had a gift to open. Bobby pulled the tape off the wrapping paper and took it off. He already knew what it was but he still felt stunned as he opened it and saw the watch she had gotten for him. "Oh, wow," he said as he pulled it out.

It was a gold watch with a black chronograph face. Engraved around the top trim of the gold face were the words _U.S. Army _and around the bottom were the initials _N.Y.P.D. _Feeling the back of the watch, he knew something had been engraved there as well. Turning it over, he took in the words as his breath caught. It read simply _'To my partner, Robert Goren.'_

Her hand was on him, running up his chest to his neck as she turned his face toward hers. "I know that professionally, you are no longer my partner, but personally, intimately, you always will be."

Bobby felt himself give her a nod before he kissed her deeply and passionately until he had to pull away to breathe. Taking a shaky breath, he looked back down at the watch but couldn't form any words. What he was feeling was unlike anything he had felt. It felt foreign and it was unsettling. He couldn't take his eyes off the watch but he finally put it down on the table and returned his attention to Alex and their breakfast.

After they finished eating and cleaned up the living room, he showered and dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a deep red colored sweater. As he sat on the bed pulling on his socks and shoes, he heard her voice drift through the silence of the house. She was down the hall in the bathroom and was singing a Christmas song that was no longer playing as she finished getting ready.

While he sat there, he couldn't help but look at the watch that was on his right wrist. Running his thumb over it, he still couldn't place the feeling that stirred in his heart and stomach while he looked at it. Laying back on his bed, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her voice. Alex wasn't an exceptional singer by any means, but he loved to hear her do it. It was the sound of her happiness and her comfort in his home.

Soon to be their home.

Even though he had meant it, had been considering it, and was one hundred percent behind it, that thought still caused some fear to grip his mind. It was a big step. A huge step for him. He had never lived with anyone since he was eighteen years old, and sharing barracks with fellow military didn't count.

He never had to share his space and his sanctuary with anyone intimately. Elliot wasn't exactly a roommate because he didn't move his stuff into his house, just his body and some clothes. Alex would be moving everything in. She would redecorate and put up pictures and drapes and girly stuff all over his house. She would become part of his sanctuary. It would no longer be his, but theirs.

Opening his eyes, he stared up at the ceiling as that thought fully occupied his mind. That was a lot for him to give to her. He had freaked out a couple days ago over the amount of control he was offering her, giving her, and there he was offering to share his home with her. He searched his heart and his mind for the answer to his own motivation for asking her to live with him. He wanted to keep her close to him, to keep an eye on her. She was his and no one else's, and he wanted her to know that. He didn't know if it was a decision driven by the jealously that still wreck though him, and the need to control something outside of himself, or if he was trying to protect her. If he really did ask her to move in to help her out, to further strengthen their relationship.

"Bobby?"

He blinked back and turned to look toward the door.

She was standing there in the shadow of his doorway wearing a black skirt that went just pass her knees and a red v-neck blouse that matched his sweater. She was putting in the second diamond earring with the necklace dangling in her hand. "Can you help me?"

Bobby looked at her for a long moment, taking in the sight of her, before getting up and taking the necklace from her. She held her hair up for him as he put the necklace around her neck and fastened it. Holding onto her shoulders, he kissed over her neck and up to her ear. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you planned it for us to match."

Alex chuckled as she turned to look him over. "You look good in red."

"Not nearly as good as you," he told her before giving her a kiss before heading toward the kitchen. "Whose car are we taking?"

"I'm driving," she called after him.

As he pulled on his coat and grabbed his wallet and keys and then Alex's car keys off the table, she came into the kitchen and steadied him with her hands on his chest.

She was looking up at him with concern in her light brown eyes. "You've been very quiet. You're not still sick-"

He grabbed her hands as he pulled them up to his lips and kissed them. "I'm good, just a little nervous."

"I don't know why, everyone likes you…even Liz." At that, he stared down at her in confusion. She smiled and gave him a kiss. "I guess you grew on her," she explained.

Bobby smiled a little but inside his world was still spinning as he tried to understand what was going on with him. With them. "I'm going to warm up your car." As he opened his door, he didn't think he would ever understand.

* * *

At nine in the morning, John Eames's house was surprisingly quiet. Bobby knew it had to do with the fact that none of the parents with children had arrived yet. The house was warm, smelled of good food that was still being cooked and baked, and all the noise was coming from the kitchen. There was a huge green plastic fir tree in the corner of the living room next to the window on the left and fireplace on the right. It was even more amazing looking than the one in his house. It was garnished with the colors gold, blue and white and it was nice to look at. Hanging down from the fireplace mantle were three Christmas stockings that held each child's name on it: Amber, Amy, and Nathan. Under the tree there were tons of gifts. The wrapped bags and boxes were stacked one on top of each other and even pushed against the back wall.

"Family tradition," Alex was explaining to him. "We can keep a few gifts for each other at our homes to open on Christmas morning, but the rest comes here. Dad just refuses to let anyone celebrate without him. You thought I was bad with this holiday, he's worse than I am. I bet he didn't even sleep last night."

Bobby tried to imagine John Eames acting like a big kid around Christmas but it wasn't working. He remembered seeing him having fun and being worked in a panic over not having the lights up and tree last week but anything beyond that wasn't coming.

"It sounds like they're all gathered in the kitchen," Alex told him as she grabbed his arm and pulled him across the living room.

Passing through the dining room, Bobby noticed the Christmas themed place mats and tablecloth. The table also held some candles there were unlit at the moment.

Alex pushed the swinging door open and as soon as they stepped through the door he heard John's voice.

"Okay, smart guy, who said 'You can go a long way with a smile. You can go a lot farther with a smile and a gun'."

Bobby glanced over and saw Junior thinking about it but he didn't give him much time to think before he answered, "Al Capone." Both John and Junior turned to him and he felt the heat creep up his neck.

John smiled slightly before he looked back to his son. "Looks like you've got some competition…Hi, Alex," he said as he pulled his daughter into a hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Your mother's upstairs with Steph, they're getting ready, doing women things."

Alex just chuckled as she went over and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Want one Bobby?"

"Yes, thank you," he told her as he crossed to the kitchen island and looked over the food, desserts, and drinks that was covering it.

Junior didn't take kindly to what his father said as he looked him over before leaning back against the counter next to the refrigerator with a beer bottle in his hand. "All right, Bobby, I got a tough quote for you. Dad even stumped me on it. Who said 'In my many years I have come to a conclusion that one…" he looked to his father for help as he struggled to remember it.

"That one useless man is a shame, two-" John was saying before he interrupted him.

"Uh, two is a law firm, and three or more is a congress'…John Adams." Bobby took the offered cup from Alex as she went to walk by him.

"Dammit," Junior muttered as he opened the refrigerator next to him. "Want a beer?"

"No thanks, I'll, uh, I'll just have the coffee for right now," Bobby told him as he took a sip from the cup.

"And I'll be upstairs," Alex said before she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Doing women things." Bobby watched as she walked away and just before she let the door swing behind her, he heard her say, "Stop checking out my ass, Goren."

Bobby stood stunned as he felt the embarrassment redden his face as he turned to the two other men in the kitchen. "I-I, uh…I wasn't."

John was giving him a death glare and Bobby thought he was going to say something until the glare faded and the man started laughing. Junior just shook his head before taking another drink of the beer in his hand.

He felt the relief fill him as he closed his eyes and took another sip of the coffee.

"So, Bobby," John said as he refilled his cup with coffee and then picked up a gingerbread man. "I talked to Terry the other day, he told me about his night with you."

Bobby tried to figure out where John was heading with that as he nursed his cup of coffee and leaned back against the counter.

"Said that you left before he could thank you for staying with him. He enjoyed it, and Nathan is getting attached to you."

He hadn't been expecting to hear that. Bobby had thought that Terry told John about him freaking out and getting upset with him. "Yeah, it was nice…I told him to get the boat."

That caused both men to laugh. "We all told him to get the boat," Junior said as he pushed off the counter and headed out of the room. "I'm going to see what times the football games start."

"Who's playing?"

Junior stopped with his hand on the door as he answered, "Oakland at Kansas City…and, Denver at Tennessee."

Bobby thought about that before telling him, "I got KC over Oakland and Denver over Tennessee."

Junior shook his head. "No way's Oakland gonna lose."

"It's the better of the offense; the Chiefs are going to get it done."

Junior rolled his eyes before asking, "Wanna make it interesting?"

Bobby chuckled and shook his head. "I don't want to bet you, man. You'll lose then we'll have to hear it from your wife."

Junior stilled for a moment then confirmed, "Yeah, that'll be bad. Okay, just twenty. She's not going get pissed over twenty bucks."

Giving in, Bobby agreed, "Sure. That good for the Denver game too?"

"Hell no, the Titans are going down." Junior finally pushed the door open and slipped out.

John was looking at him and that caused him to shift nervously in his stance. "I think you just took my son for twenty bucks."

Bobby smiled as he relaxed a little, "He wanted to."

"I've been meaning to ask you if you had a good time last week? Alex said you did but I wanted to ask you myself."

Bobby nodded. "It was great. I was sore for a few days afterwards. Your granddaughters," he shook his head. "I thought _I_ had energy."

John looked out the window toward the backyard that was covered in a thick blanket of snow. "They loved it when you got out on the ice with them. You didn't have to do that." He returned his attention back to him and smiled before walking toward him.

Bobby straightened as John walked by him.

Patting him on the shoulder as he passed, John told him, "I'm glad you came this year. I hope it's the first of many." And with that the man was out of the room leaving him staring after him.

The house quickly started to fill with the Eames family and an hour later Bobby was starting to feel a little out of place. Then Terry arrived along with Liz and Nathan and then suddenly he became the focus of attention as Nathan bolted for him. The boy crashed into his legs before tumbling back on his butt then threw his arms up in the air while screaming at the top of his lungs, "Un-ump!"

Bobby did what the boy wanted and picked him up. Nathan could have strangled him with the tight hug he gave his neck before he saw Aunt Alex next to him. Nathan almost fell out of his arms as he tried to jump to her.

"Hey, buddy," Alex exclaimed as she took the boy from his arms. "I've missed you."

As Alex and Nathan had their bonding moment, Bobby shook hands with Terry as Liz disappeared down the hallway with the diaper bag and a small backpack.

"Bobby good to see ya," Terry said as she smiled over at his sister-in-law. "Alex, thanks for the other night, with Liz."

"No problem. So, what'd she agree to?"

Terry, with a wide grin of his face told them, "We're getting the boat." Turning back to him, he said, "And I want you two to be my first guests."

Bobby looked down at Alex as she chuckled a little but nodded 'yes'. "We'll love that."

"Great, once is starts to get warm again, we'll plan something. All right, I'll be back, I've got to go say hi to everyone else and get me something to drink. Want anything?"

"I'm good," Bobby told him as he picked up his can of Coke and took a sip.

"Nothing for me, Terry, but thanks," Alex told him as she sat Nathan down and watched as the boy took off toward the group of family members seated around the living room. "You're not drinking?"

He shook his head as he looked down at her. "I still feel bad about the last time I was around your family. I wasn't…It was a bad time. I had a lot to drink, showed up at your place drunk and then we got into a fight." Bobby smiled down at her, "I'm surprised I didn't ruin anything with them myself."

"They understood. You had just lost your job, and with everything that had happened to me."

"I just," he felt the need to explain so he did. "I don't want your family to think I've got a problem. I know your dad was thinking it."

Alex shook her head. "It never got that far, he was just concerned," she tried to clarify and sooth his worries. "You've seen how he is around you now. If he thought anything bad about you, you'd know it. You wouldn't be here." Leaning into him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up. Smiling, she said, "Look up."

When Bobby did he saw what she was looking at. There was a mistletoe hanging above them in the archway that separated the living room from the dining room. As he looked down at her smiling, he quickly took a glance around before pulling her closer and giving her a kiss. He pulled away quickly but Alex stopped him with her hands on the back of his head.

It wasn't until they heard a loud roar of whoops and hollers and someone whistling that she finally released him. Bobby felt the heat burn at his neck and cheeks and it wasn't just from all the attention. Closing his eyes, he had to regain his composer as he rubbed over his forehead. He felt Alex touch his arm and when he looked down, she pointed across the room.

"We're wanted."

Bobby saw John motioning for them to come across the room. John was already in a conversation with Mike and Rich and as they approached he heard the topic of that conversation.

"No, I'm telling you. I bet you can't stump the guy." John then smiled over at him and said, "Just the person I've been talking about. I told these two about how you put Junior to shame earlier. They don't believe me. For years, Junior's been the trivia master of the family."

"And a cocky one at that," Rich interjected as he looked around for his younger brother. "Where is that kid anyway?"

"I saw him in the kitchen," Bobby informed them. "He was getting the twins ready to go outside."

"So, Bobby," Mike said as he took a sip of the beer in his hand. "How's your Naval history?"

Bobby smirked as he told Mike, "Ask away and I'll let you know."

"Okay. I'll give you a softball." Mike looked skeptical as he asked, "What ship did the Japanese Emperor surrender on ending War World II?"

"The U.S.S. Missouri," he answered without giving it any thought.

Mike smiled a little before throwing him another one. "Who was the first MCPON of the Navy and what does MCPON stand for?"

Bobby smiled because Mike thought he was giving him a hard one. "Uh, the first Master Chief Petty Office of the Navy was Delbert Black. He became the MCPON during the Vietnam war, from 1967 to '71. And he was a Gunner's Mate," he added for extra measure and it worked. Mike looked stunned.

Richard shook his head but was grinning. "I think he's proved that he knows more than Junior. He missed that one."

Mike was thinking hard and then he smiled as he asked, "What does the USN stand for on the Chief's anchor?"

Bobby didn't hesitate as he stepped closer to Mike as he told him, "Most would think it stood for United States Navy, but it doesn't. It's actually Unity, Service, and Navigation." He then held out his hand for Mike to shake. "And I've been meaning to tell you congratulations, I heard you're retiring after 25 years. You're leaving as a Senior Chief, right?"

Mike shook his hand as he acknowledged that. "Yeah. Twenty-five years…that's half my lifetime. I planned on doing four and ended up staying."

Bobby laughed a little. "I know something about that. When I went into the Army at eighteen and I didn't even think I would last all four years. Next thing I know, twelve went by before I finally left."

"What'd you leave as? Did you go officer?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, I didn't finish college until after I got out. I left as a Sergeant."

Mike looked confused as that as he said, "You were in for twelve years and all you got to was Sergeant?"

Bobby shrugged as he explained, "I had…_have_, uh, authority issues, even got demoted a few times before I ever made it to being a Corporal."

"Always the trouble maker," Alex said as she rubbed him along his back.

With feeling her hand caressing along his back Bobby involuntarily leaned into her side to get closer.

Junior, with perfect time, took that moment to enter the conversation. "And from what I hear going around the PD you're still causing trouble."

Bobby tensed and he knew Alex felt it.

"You can't believe everything you hear, Junior," Alex defended him to her brother.

Bobby knew that she was only protecting him, but he still didn't want her to be put in that position, especially not with her family. "No, he's right. I can be, um, uncooperative and sometimes insubordinate, but, a lot of the stuff that gets spread around the departments gets blown out of proportion. You know how it is. A simple story about a cop getting into a scuffle with a guy resisting turns into a shootout with three dead and the guy looking at losing his job by the time it make the rounds."

Everyone laughed at that because they all knew it was true. The NYPD rumor mill, like most, liked to turn everything into something it wasn't. Bobby knew that with him it was being turned that way for a reason, and with him being called a corrupted cop. For the first time, he was seeing how him making the decision to do the IA operation was effecting not only Alex but her family. He wondered if Junior believed the rumors, or if he took them as they came and shrugged them off.

Shaking his can of Coke, he realized it was empty. "I'm gonna get me another one, you want anything?" Bobby asked Alex as he went to step away.

"I'll come with you." Alex gave Mike a kiss on the cheek, congratulating him before walking with him to the kitchen.

Pushing the door open, Bobby heard all kinds of chaos going on in around the room and as he looked around he found the sources of it. While the men had gathered out in the living room the women had gathered in the kitchen. Looking out the backdoor he saw the twin girls playing in the backyard along with Nathan.

"And there are the very two reasons why Terry put his foot down on getting that damn boat."

Bobby blushed slightly as he rubbed at the back of his head as Liz said that. Tossing the empty can into the trash he had to move by the women to get to the refrigerator.

"Hey, Bobby, get me a Sprite," Alex told him before he heard her say, "And Terry put his foot down because that's what he should have done. You were being demanding and unreasonable."

Bobby had to smile at hearing Alex's comeback as he got him another Coke and her a Sprite.

"I'm surprised that you gave in so quickly," Alex said as she took the soft drink from him.

"Well," Liz was saying as he headed to the door. "It wouldn't be Christmas without surprises."

A while later Bobby was sitting on the edge of the couch with Junior kneeling on the floor as they watched as the Oakland Raiders field goal kicker sent the ball sailing 46 yards through the goal posts.

"Yes!" Junior yelled as he threw his hands up in the air. "It's good! It's over, Bobby, it's over. Chiefs are down two points with no timeouts!"

"It's not over yet. They still got a minute-three to go. They got time to get the ball down the field and win it." Bobby smiled over at Alex who was sitting next to him as she gave them both a weird look. "Kansas has one of the top rated return guys. Hell, Dante might just run it all the way in."

A few minutes later Bobby was proven right as Dante Hall ran the ball nearly 50 yards before he was finally taken down. Bobby was out of his seat as Junior stared stunned at the television. "And there it is! Fifty-four seconds left on the clock, Green's got plenty of time to work with."

"He'll throw an interception."

After two passes from Kansas City's Quarterback Trent Green, the Chiefs were on the 23 yard line with 45 seconds still on the clock. Then after a good run by the running back, they were now on the 19 yard line with 26 seconds.

"Their kicker's a rookie and he missed two kicks already this game. He'll choke." Junior was yelling at the television for the kicker to miss, shank it right, or for a miracle block as they watched as the kicker sent the ball perfectly through the goal posts. It was the guy's first game winning field goal. He threw his hands over his face as he screamed out. "One point! They lost by one fucking point!"

Bobby couldn't help but laugh as he watched as he called out, "You owe me twenty bucks."

"You bet him," Alex exclaimed. Then she turned to him and said, "You let him bet against you?"

"He talked me into it," Bobby defended himself as he pointed to Junior who was still freaking out over the end of the game.

"All right everybody," John called out as he came back into the room with a camera. "The first game is over, the ham is almost done in the oven and the kids are getting cranky, and I'm not talking about the twins and Nathan."

"Presents!" a few of the them exclaimed, including Alex as she nudged him in the ribs.

Bobby knew that she was nudging him because of her excitement, but he decided at that moment to get up off the couch to allow someone else to sit there. Alex watched him move out of the way with a frown and he gave her a smile before heading down the hallway. Once in the bathroom he took a moment to take in the silence and the fact that no one else was in the room. He enjoyed the family a lot, but he was starting to feel a little claustrophobic with all of them gathered in one room. Crowds always made him feel uneasy since he basically grew up alone. He used the restroom and then cleaned up before heading back out into the living room, only he bypassed all the commotion and the gift giving by going into the kitchen.

The baked ham was smelling wonderful and he couldn't wait until it was time to eat. As he picked up a Christmas cookie off the counter, he heard the door open and Alex stuck her head in.

"Come on out here, I want to tell my family our surprise."

Bobby frowned in confusion as he ate the cookie and leaned against the counter. "What surprise?"

Alex rolled her eyes as him. "That we're moving in together."

"Oh," he said as he walked to the door. "I didn't know it was that big a deal for your family."

Alex took him by the hand and pulled him along with her. "It is. It's not as big as announcing marriage or a kid, but for us it's big and I want them to know."

As she stopped them back under the arch with the mistletoe, Bobby wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close as he watched the members of the Eames family passed around the gifts they got for each other and open them.

"No one knew what to get you," Alex told him. "I told them not to worry about it that I got it covered but…" she picked up one of the gifts that she had stacked on a chair they had moved into the living room from the dining room. "My dad got you this."

Bobby stared down at the box she held in his hands with a sense of confusion. Looking around, he spotted John who was laughing at Nathan who was having more fun with the box than the toy that came in the box. Turning back to Alex, he said, "Uh…thanks." Taking it, he felt the weight and knew what it had to be. Smiling a little, he put it back with hers. "I'll unwrap it later."

"You sure?"

Giving her a kiss, he told her, "I'm certain. If I open it here, I'll be tempted to drink the contents."

Alex was briefly confused before she smiled a little. "Jameson Irish Whiskey for him, Glenlivet Scotch for you."

Bobby only smiled before returning his attention back to the family. "How are you going to get their attention?"

Alex was looking at her family and then she yelled, "Hey! Listen up!"

Everyone stopped talking and laughing as they turned to her, them. Bobby ducked his head a little as he looked down at her.

"Bobby and I have an announcement to make. We're going to be living together," she announced with a huge grin. That got claps and another round of whoops and hollers before she continued, "So, I'm expecting everyone here to help me move, preferably before the new year."

"Before," Bobby suddenly said as he looked down at her. "That gives you a week to pack and…" he trailed off at the look she gave him.

"I want us to bring in the new year together in our home."

"Don't try to talk her out of it, Bobby," Rich told him. "Once she's made up her mind there's no changing it. You've got one more week at best to live it up."

After their big announcement, Bobby led her across the room to the hallway as he told her. "Alex, a week to move. Where are you going to find the time?"

"I've got all day tomorrow, and I go home once my shift is over. Plus, Angie doesn't work and I can have her come over and help me…I can move in a week. I don't have a lot of stuff to actually take to your-our, place. What I don't need I can sell or put in storage, or give it away to charity. I can get it done. You don't have to do anything really except help me take stuff in your car."

Bobby felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. _No_, he thought as Alex was still talking to him about how they could move her in days. The vibration continued, causing him to finally reached for it. Checking the display, his face dropped. _No. _

Alex immediately stopped talking before saying, "I thought you weren't on rotation."

"I'm not." Holding up a finger, he told her, "I gotta take this." Stepping away from her, he walked further down the hallway to get away from the loud chatter of the Eames family. Flipping the phone open, he answered, "Goren."

At hearing Lieutenant Williams voice in his ear, and what she was telling him, he closed his eyes and rubbed at his head. _No_, he thought again as he told her, "Yeah, I'll be right there." He didn't have to turn around to know that she was behind him. She placed her hands on his back, causing him to tense then relax against her. "I'm sorry," he told her as he took a breath and turned.

Alex wasn't look too upset, she understood. "I'll drive you home."

* * *

Alex had taken him home so he could drive his car to Staten Island. He had thought about calling Logan first to see if they could ride together but thought better of it. He would take his own car, less hassle plus he didn't know if Logan was already on the island working or elsewhere. With the streets being mostly scarce the drive didn't take long as he sped across the highway that connected Brooklyn to the island. As he pulled up behind a park police cruiser he spotted Logan standing on the corner of the alleyway taking to one of the CSU techs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the medical examiner's van pull up and Brenda get out along with a young guy that also assisted Kerr. He figured the old man himself was at home with family.

Picking up his hot cup of coffee, he opened his door and got out. The temperature wasn't too cold but he knew he was going to be standing outside in that alley for a long time and he would start to feel horribly cold. While he walked by them, the patrol officers took a glance at him before going back to talking amongst each other. One of the patrol's he saw was Lipinski, the guy he had asked to try and keep a vigilant over the working girls. He was also the cop who had given him a ride to the ferry and few times and who Alex and Copeland talked to about the Connelly murders. Lipinski was on his list.

Logan spotted him walking toward him and tried to give him a warm smile. Mike knew he was having Christmas with Alex and her family and he looked guilty for calling him out. "Goren," he said as he stopped in front of him. "I'm sorry, but it's our case. If it wasn't we wouldn't even be here. We're not on rotation."

Bobby took a sip of the coffee and let it warm him up. "I know, so, she's down there."

"I haven't seen her yet myself. I just arrived a few minutes before you did." Logan led the way and he diligently followed.

There was hardly any snow coating the alleyway and what had fallen on that pavement had melted or turned to slug. Bobby looked around the two buildings that lined the alley and noticed a few windows high over the shops where there were apartments and offices. They looked unoccupied or vacant.

"Who found her?" he asked before they even reached the body.

"An anonymous female caller, just like last time. She knew the victim's and gave us her name. Natalie Walker."

_Just like last time. _Bobby saw her legs first. The woman had been wearing fishnet stockings but he could easily make out the slashes along her legs. Black high-heels were on both her feet but one of them was broken. As he got closer, he grimaced as he came to a stop. Their murderer was escalating at a fast pace; it was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Her body was exposed; the blouse she had on was cut up and discarded next to her. Bruising and small uneven cuts were all over her body. The neck had been strangled and then cut open from one side to the other. None of those things was as startling as what he saw, as what the killer was escalating to. The woman's chest, where her breasts had once been, was now a bloody mass of muscle and skin. The previous victim had portions of her back cut out, this woman had her chest.

Turning away, he eyed Logan who had to also take his eyes off the body and he felt the anger rush through him at the look he saw in his partner's eyes. It was recognition. They had both seen the victim before weeks ago in a smoky nameless bar in the company of the untouchable Mob boss, Paul Savoie.

TBC…


	24. You've got some death wish, Goren

A/N: Happy (Belated) Holidays! I apologize for my lack in updating but it always gets crazy around this time of year.

Enjoy!

* * *

"How can you keep looking at those?"

The images of Natalie Walker's brutally disfigured and mutilated body blurred in front of him as he felt the burning itchiness in his eyes. Rubbing at them, they started to water from the irritation as he answered, "Someone has to; you haven't even taken a glance at them." Bobby tossed the photos down on his desk and opened the top drawer of his desk. Taking out the eye drops, he leaned back and put a few drops in his dry eyes.

"They're going to give you nightmares."

"I've already got nightmares. A few more aren't gonna hurt." Bobby closed his eyes as he tried to get his mind to think.

If Paul 'Paulie' Savoie was their serial murderer then it was going to take a lot more than police work to get the guy. The man was a mob boss, the head honcho on Staten Island…Mr. Invincible. From what Logan had told him already, Savoie was connected to a lot of people. He was certain that he was paying off not only politicians but cops as well. It infuriated to think that maybe this was already known. That these cops, these corrupted cops, already was aware of Savoie's activities but chose to look the other way as long as they got something for it.

He did find that most of the cases had been handled by the corrupted cops on his list. Sullivan and Travis investigated five. Jackson and Rivers handled three. Beside the two he was handling that only left one. The first one. The first murdered prostitute that was murdered nearly a year ago had been Gonzalez's case and he was, according to Garrison, a good cop.

Picking up the file of the first murdered woman, Bobby went over the file again. The many rules he went by as a cop was the golden rule of serial cases and that was that the first victim was always where he would find the answers he was looking for. The first kill was always the most personal. The killer usually always knew the victim or left the most evidence or clues as to motive. Before, when he had first looked it over, it had been lacking in a number of things, details for one, and the victim's name. The first victim was still a Jane Doe.

The first thing he needed to do was find out who she was. Bobby put the file into his binder and got up.

"What is it? You got something?" Logan asked as he hung up the phone and stood.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Wanna come with me to Coney Island?" Bobby asked as he pulled on his overcoat.

"I'm guessing we're not going for the carnival rides and merry-go-round."

"Nope, we're going somewhere even better. A whorehouse."

Logan just looked at him as they walked out of the squad room and down the staircase. Once they were in the car and driving across the bridge, he asked, "Mind telling me why we're going there?"

"To get a name. Also, we know that our guy goes there to get his victims."

"Some of them," Logan added as he switched lanes and gained speed.

Bobby was looking over the twelve victims and eight that were identified had worked at the house they were going to at least once. Only three besides Natalie were unknowns. He was going to change that today. "Eight, possibly nine out of the eleven, that's more than a coincides. He's not a prowler. That is where he finds them. They get his attention and he pursues, buys them out for himself, keeps them however long he wants…when they turn up missing, no one notices. Then by the time they do, they think that maybe the woman skipped out, found another place to work…got into drugs or into jail. They become afterthoughts."

"But you would think that the owners or pimps or whoever own that house and those women would notice when twelve of their girls go missing."

"Not really. Twelve over a course of a year in a place that house…When I was there, I saw twice that many and who knows how many more who. In all, I'll say thirty to forty. If one comes up missing, no one's going to care. Like I said, once they leave that house anything can happen, even death."

"It's a wonder how prosperous that business still is."

"Sex sells, and drugs doesn't hurt." Bobby closed his eyes and shook his head at the images that started to invade his mind.

He was starting to visualize and he didn't like it. He never liked it, getting inside the head of a killer, especially this type of killer. It was more than the act of killing, it was the act of torturing. They were after a sadist.

"This guy," he was saying, "Whether it's Savoie or not, he's a sociopath. This escalation is…he's coming into his own, getting more comfortable. I don't think what he's doing now is serving any, uh…any inner desire, it's not serving his pathological needs, at least not his original purpose."

"Which was?"

"Well, based solely on the fact that he's killing these women, I'd say he's a missionary killer. It's his motive. He believes that his act of killing prostitutes is justified on the basis that he's doing society a favor getting rid of them." He had to clear his throat as he rubbed at his head. "That initial desire is still there, but it morphed beyond that when he got a taste of killing. When he realized how much he took pleasure in the act itself. The stalking, the torture, the kill. It's experimentation now. He's doing it because he can. He's curious, pushing himself to see how far he can go. What he can stand doing to these women before it sickens him, which it never will because he can't feel their pain and suffering. He went from being a missionary to a pure hedonistic…Killing for the sheer pleasure of it."

"So," Logan said in confusion as they entered Brooklyn. "This is just for kicks?"

Bobby swallowed hard and nodded. "Exactly. The first murders, the first ten, they were done for a reason. To fulfill his psychological need…"

"Being a missionary?"

"Correct, but now…This," he held up the pictures he had been staring at. "The mutilation, there's no purpose for it other than shock value. It's torturous and…beyond degradation, it's…dehumanization. He lost his original purpose to a greater need."

Logan was quiet for a while until they were getting closer to the house. "A greater need. I'm afraid to ask what that is."

"It's simple. It's what every serial killer feels who truly and completely enjoy the act that they're doing. It feels like they're God. They become God. That's what drives him now. He's the one ultimately in control."

Glancing over at him it looked like Logan wanted to say something to him about that but chose instead to say, "It didn't elude me that the cops who originally investigated those cases were all corrupt cops. And now that I'm thinking about it, the mutilation of the bodies started when we took over the cases. When we connected them."

Bobby had already picked up on that as well; he wanted to smile at Logan's conclusion so he did. "I've been thinking the same. He's onto us. And now, he's playing with us. Now with his murders being brought out into the open, being connected as a serial…why not go all the way. Why not get as much fun out of it as you can."

Feeling the car coming to a stop. He took a deep breath as he stared at the house that represented a lot of things that darkened and tainted the good about being human; it was a house that preyed on the weaknesses of both men and women and used them for a greed. That house was full of the sins of man. However, despite all of that, there was nothing more disturbing to him and more sinful than taking a another persons life based on pure enjoyment, in thinking that a human wasn't worth a damn. To him it didn't matter what a person did for a living or what they had to resort to in order to survive, they were still human, a person with a soul and a mind and with every person there came the opportunity for redemption.

There had to be because if there wasn't then he had no hope in hell at being forgiven himself. He wasn't an atheist like some would think; he still held hope, a spark of belief that God did care. That belief helped to give him empathy; it was how he saw the redeeming qualities in Wally Stevens, in John Tagman, and how in the bottom of his heart he still held out hope for Nicole Wallace. Deep in that bunker he claimed that had been her heart he saw something, that if she was able to face the truth, face her demons, she could stop. She could finally make that sparkling girl happy that was buried in the blackness that had corrupted her when she was a child.

"If Paul Savoie is the killer, and he's onto us investigating these murders…" Logan said as he turned to him. "He had to have been told. And that also means we're being watched. We're going to be targets if we aren't already. When word gets out that we now suspect him, that we remember him being with Natalie Walker that night at the bar…" Logan didn't, or couldn't, say the rest.

He remembered the feeling he had weeks ago when he had agreed to do the IA operation. When he had asked Logan to join it with him; it was the feeling that there would be blood. And now, at that very moment, he felt himself as the prey. The hunter could very well now be the hunted. It was a feeling that seemed to shift his very soul. Covering his mouth, he couldn't get his body to do anything else. He couldn't make a sudden move or take a deep breath as his thoughts and emotions were slamming into one. Before this was over they were going to have targets on their backs.

He was going to have to tell Alex. There was no avoiding it now. No keeping it away from her. He couldn't put her in danger and she was going to have to know about this. They would be living together by the end of the week.

"We need to tell Garrison. Maybe while he's watching us he can keep a vigilant out for anyone else keeping tabs on us."

Bobby finally nodded as he said, "You do that." He reached for the door handle and got out.

"Want me to come in?"

"No, I need you to be a lookout."

As Bobby made his way across the street and to the front door, he spotted the same looking drugged-out women swaying on the porch but when they spotted him they watched him like hawks as he ascended the steps.

One of the women stepped in front of him, trying to block his path. "No pigs allowed," she said in a voice so detached from any emotion that to him it almost sounded robotic.

Glaring down at the woman he asked, "Who's that?" as he looked over her left shoulder. When she turned her head to see who he was talking about, he quickly jerked to the right and moved right by her. "Hey!" Not paying her any mind he pushed open the door and walked right in.

He came face to face with the Puerto Rican woman as she crossed her arms and stared him down.

"Unless you have a warrant, I want you out."

Bobby wanted to laugh at the brave front the woman was putting on by giving him that order as he moved closer to her. "Sorry, but I can't do that. Can we go somewhere to talk…privately?"

She glared hard at him for a long moment before taking a glance around. "Fine, you're the police, you'll do what you want anyway. Forget about my rights."

"Hey, I'm not the bad guy here," he told her as he stepped up to her. Bobby didn't want to threaten the woman so he tried to reason with her. "I know you fear the police. You think we're all out to put you in jail. I'm not interested in that. I'm interested in saving your lives. Now, please, can we talk?"

At that, she deflated a little before she motioned for him to go to the room on the far right.

While he walked across the floor to the room, he took a look around but didn't see Lindsey anywhere. The room he was led too was a small parlor with long couches ottomans and it made him bristle with discomfort. Turned back to her, he told her, "I only have a few questions, Miss…?"

She crossed her arms again, guarding herself as she said, "Jenna."

"Jenna, I've got a couple of unidentified women who I believe used to work here." Opening his binder, he pulled out the photographs of the Jane Doe's. "Do you recognize any of these women?"

She didn't attempt to take the photos as she asked him instead, "Would I have to testify?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, and I don't think it would come to that in the future."

Jenna took the photos and immediately he saw in her surprised eyes that she knew them.

"You know who they are, don't you?"

Jenna nodded without taking her eyes off the pictures. "I didn't think…If I thought that they had been-"

"I know," he said, trying to reassure her and ease her guilt. "Who are they?"

Jenna quickly told him who each woman was: Rachael McKenna, Emma Banks, and the first victim, Michelle Costello.

"How about a Natalie Walker," he asked. Before he could take out the photo she answered.

"Yes, her too."

Showing the photo to be certain, Jenna gave a slight nod and looked away as tears threatened to fall. Bobby put the photos away and closed his binder. Giving her a moment to compose herself, he waited to asked her one more question. "Lindsey Broyles…Is she gone for the evening?"

She gave a nod but didn't say anything.

"When she gets back," he said as he pulled out his card from his pocket. "Give me a call."

"You must be out of your mind if you think-"

"Listen to me. If you want to keep her alive then you will call me when she comes in." Bobby waited until she finally conceded and gave a nod. "Thank you."

As he left, he looked around the street but didn't see any familiar vehicles watching. Pulling his coat collar up to block the wind, he made his way to the car where Logan was waiting.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Logan told him. "Well, Garrison is officially on high alert. He thinks we should back-off the serial case or hand it off to Special Victims."

He wasn't surprised that Garrison would suggest that they backed off the case in favor of the operation, but he couldn't and didn't want to do that. "I think he's wrong," he told Logan as the car pulled away from the curb.

The snow had finally lightened up on the drive back to Staten Island. Bobby stared out the window while he tried to focus on the facts of the case. It seemed like everything he got close to an answer it would slip away from him. He didn't know if it had to do with the fear growing in his gut, the thoughts of Alex that he kept going back to, the weather or what, but he wasn't able to concentrate. The sudden feeling of being tired, beaten, and worn down settled in his body and mind and he felt his eyes start to slid shut as they hit the bridge.

He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until Logan jarred him awake. Blinking his heavy eyes open, he looked around the departments motor pool in confusion. "Sorry, man, I didn't-"

"Don't worry about it. It was nice being able to drive without having to listen to you talk the whole way." As they made their way into the building, Logan turned to him as he held the door open, "I think we should hand this case off."

Bobby shook his head as he walked by him into the warmth of the department. "I'm not handing it over."

Being it was nearly six o'clock at night on Christmas day, the lobby of the department was fairly quiet. Bing Crosby's voice was singing _White Christmas _down the hall as he got closer the could see the watch commander on duty, Sergeant Danielle Macy, sitting behind the desk softly singing along. "Merry Christmas, Macy," he told her as he passed.

"Hey, Goren. Merry Christmas to you too, and you Detective Logan."

Logan put on his best Grinch act as he huffed, "It's a not so Merry Christmas when you're working Homicide, Danny."

Bobby didn't say anything to that but he definitely agreed. Pulling out his cell phone as they ascended the steps, he saw that he had a few miss calls. One from his mother's doctor and one from Alex. Both had left voice messages. He put the phone away as he got closer to the Homicide squad as he heard Logan.

"I really think we should drop the serial case," Mike said again from behind him.

He was starting to get frustrated having this same discussion over again. "We're not handing the cases off, Mike," Bobby bit out more forcefully as he rounded the corner to the Homicide squad which was empty.

He looked around as he made his way to his desk and didn't see anybody anywhere. The desks looked worked at, files and papers and notes were still there but not one cop in the place. Then he realized that half the chairs were also gone. Luckily no phones were ringing.

Logan was right behind him pleading his case. "Why not? We're supposed to be clearing cases, not piling up names from a serial. The Lieu gave us a job and we're not doing that job."

He stopped and turned, nearly making Logan run right into him. "First off, we are doing our job. Secondly, Violent Crimes isn't going to take this, reason why is because these women have been murdered. Murdered, Mike, is homicide, our department."

"Then how about Special Victims."

"Special-…They've been murdered. That seems to be the key concept that you're not grasping. If they were just raped, okay, even raped and disfigured, I would hand it off, but they were killed and that means those cases are our cases."

Logan finally breathed out and held up his hand, backing him off. "Alright, back off. I'm just thinking about the possibility of clearing these cases. We got jack to work with, jack shit on evidence, and our only suspect is Jack the Ripper aka Paulie Savoie, a fucking mob boss. I say again, you asshole, we got jack! All that's going to happen are more women are going to get killed, more files are going to pile up, and our own solve rate is going to plummet to being non-existent."

Bobby stared hard at Logan as he finally told him what he had been thinking about the entire drive back. "I, uh…I think we should cut ties on this, Mike."

Logan gapped at him and then asked, "You what?"

He looked around and then leaned closer to Logan and dropped his voice, as he told him, "Remember what Garrison said, about maybe having to take you off this…" he nodded a little. "I think he's right."

In the two months he had worked with Michael Logan, he had never seen him get so angry. "You," he suddenly pushed him, causing him to stumble back, "son-of-a-bitch!"

"Hey, lower your voice," he snapped back at him as he stood his ground. If Logan wanted to get mad and push him around, then so be it. But the more he thought about everything that was happening and possibly going to happen, the more he knew that it was the right decision. He needed Mike on the outside of this, not on the inside. "I'm not saying for you to be cut off completely, just-"

"I know what you're saying, asshole!" Logan yelled. "You want to go at this alone. Are you a fucking-"

"Will you two shut-up? We're trying to watch the game here!"

Bobby looked over to the break room and saw Jackson leaning around the entryway in a chair.

"It's Christmas you idiots! Football's on," Jackson told them before he leaned forward in the chair and disappeared behind the wall.

Glancing to Logan, and then to the Lieutenant's office which was vacant, Bobby started to the break room when Mike grabbed him.

Mike pushed him against the wall and held him there as he strictly told him, "You've got some death wish, Goren. This is not the time to do this."

Bobby shoved him away as he told him, "This is exactly the right time to do this. It's going to get so much harder from here on out, and I need you out there ready with that Calvary to pull me out, Logan. These guys trust you now, they'll never suspect it from you. Garrison's too much of a target for them. They know he's IA, and I can only trust him with so much. I trust you with everything."

Logan stood in front of him, breathing heavily as he thought that over. Finally, he gave a nod. "You better know what you're doing. I'll set up a meeting with him for Monday so we can all talk this over."

Bobby nodded a little as he straightened out his suit jacket. "Sorry you won't be using that suicide pill anytime soon."

"Yeah, because I'm not the one using it, you are."

He just looked at Logan before he headed to the break room. As soon as he turned the corner he was staring at the television that was mounted in the corner of the room and the football game that was being played. Sitting around the TV was half the squad and surprisingly enough Lieutenant Williams.

When she spotted him, she asked, "Got any updates for me?"

Shaking his head, he heard Logan answer from behind him, "No ma'am. Just names for the Jane Doe's but we haven't been able to run any of them yet."

"Good work you two. I know it was your day off, so I'm giving you two options, stay and do what you can or take off early but put in a half day tomorrow to get it done."

Bobby hesitated for a long moment as he thought about what he wanted to do. Normally he would have stayed and worked, but with the added information about what they were up against, he felt he needed the time to think and sort everything out. They got the names, they got what evidence they could from the crime scene and forensics was running what they could but half the crime lab was off for the holidays. He knew he wouldn't get anything back until Monday anyway. He couldn't even talk to a Judge or get warrants or anything until Monday.

Turning back to the television screen, he saw the score to the football game; the Denver Broncos were killing the Tennessee Titans. If Junior would have betted him, he would have won twice today. His mind drifted to earlier, to John Eames house, and he remembered Junior confronting him about the rumors. He remembered the look in Junior's eyes as he mentioned hearing about his behavior, Junior didn't know what to think. Alex's kid brother wanted to believe him, he wanted to be told that it was all false and just talk and that Bobby was the good cop that he knew him to be. It had hurt him to see that in Junior's eyes, that questioning. And he knew it was only going to get worse.

The more he thought about it, the more he just wanted to leave. Looking around at the mostly men in the break room, and knowing that at least three were corrupt and his supposed 'friends', he felt the anger start to settle in his heart and pulse through his veins. He needed to get away from this for a while. To try and calm the turmoil that was slowly gnawing away at his insides, at his soul. He needed a day off. Sighing, he said, "I'm leaving."

Logan actually seemed shocked by that. "Wow, I wasn't expecting you to take off. Me, yeah, but you?"

Shrugging, he told him, "Alex, even though she didn't say it, she was upset that I was called out. It's not too late, maybe I can make it up to her."

"Have fun with that, I'm actually going to stay. I can work on that Roger Gray case while we wait for forensics to get their asses in gear. If anything comes up, I'll give you a call."

Giving Logan a friendly pat on the shoulder, Bobby told him, "Alright, thanks. I'll be in early tomorrow morning."

"Merry Christmas, partner."

"I thought there was no Merry Christmas in Homicide?"

Logan just smirked.

Bobby left Logan in the break room to watch the rest of the football game while he headed to his desk. As he filed away what he had and wrote down some notes for Logan, things he was going to look into for tomorrow and what he needed him to do, he heard someone coming into the squad room from the hallway. Looking up, he spotted Detective Travis coming toward him. Travis had his thick black overcoat draped over his arm with snow melting on it.

"Goren, what's going on? Where's everyone?"

Bobby nodded a little as he went back to writing on the sticky notepad. "Break room, watching the Broncos beat the Titans." He stuck the notes on Logan's blotter and a few on the case file and put it on his desk.

"Don't say it like that; McNair's my boy. He's on my fantasy football team." Travis came up beside him and looked the files over that were sitting on top. "What are you going to do with these other unsolved cases?" he asked as he picked one of the files up.

"Probably send them to the Cold Case squad." Bobby reached over and snatched the file out of the detective's hand. "That's not yours," he eyed Travis as he put it back down on the desk.

Travis was watching him and he gave him a small, nearly condescending smile. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

Bobby tried not to let anything show as he asked, "About?"

Shaking his head, the detective told him, "Not here. How about a drink?"

Rubbing at his jaw, he debated whether to get the drink with Travis or put it off. He didn't know what Travis wanted to talk to him about but he had more than a few ideas. "Yeah, okay, I guess I can go now if-"

"Not now, in a few days," Travis didn't give him time to say anything before he started walking away. "I'll give you call."

Bobby looked after the detective and shook his head. He didn't know if Travis was always like that or just with him. It didn't matter, he didn't like the corrupt cop either. At least he tried to not let it show. Before he left his desk, he put the files away and put the serial case files in Logan's desk. Grabbing his coat, he pulled out his cell and listened to the voice messages as he walked out the squad room.

* * *

Bobby parked his car and sighed heavily as he rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. The drive home had been long and slow, giving him time to think. The message Dr. Schimo had left on his phone was to inform him that his mother wasn't doing any better than yesterday. Yesterday she had to be sedated and restrained in his arms after she lost it. Today she was still agitated but at least she wasn't being restrained any longer, just being watched all the time. Alex's message had been a hopeful one. She had wanted to come over that night, if he was able to get off, so they could at least finish out the holiday with each other. He had called her back on the drive home to see how everything was and if she could still make it over. She told him she didn't know.

He would have driven straight to Queens to be with her but he didn't think he could be around all her family tonight. Not after today and what he had learned about his case and about the man he might be going after. Paul Savoie's dark emotionless eyes appeared in his head and he jerked his eyes open as he felt his body twitch. Rubbing at his head, he tried to push that image out of it as he finally turned the car off and got out. The wind kicked up the snow around the steps as he walked up them to the door. Pushing the back door open, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the inner door.

As soon as he stepped inside he knew he wasn't alone. Music was softly playing in the background.The house was dark and the only thing that illuminated the kitchen were the two candles that were lit on the table. And there she was, sitting in the chair facing him, his partner, his lover, his Alex. He quickly shut the door and locked it as he eyed the candlelit table and then the woman that was standing. "Alex?" he asked confused but pleasantly so as he stepped into the kitchen.

She had changed. The red blouse and black skirt she had on earlier was replaced with a long red dress along with the jewelry he had gotten her and nothing else. Her feet were bare and he didn't know why but he found it a little amusing. It probably had something to do with the heat. It was burning up inside his apartment.

"Bobby," she said as she stopped in front of him. Sliding her hands around the back of his neck, she pulled him down for a kiss.

He went to hold her but his hands were full and he was still overly dressed for the occasion. Pulling back, he asked, "What's all this?" as he had to step away from her to put his binder up along with everything else.

As he took off his coat and hung it on the hanger by the door she told him, "You had to leave before you got Christmas dinner. So," she gestured around. "I brought Christmas dinner to you."

Nodding a little he finally moved up to her and with his now free hands, took her by the waist and leaned down to give her a proper kiss. His hands slid around the silky fabric of the dress to her bare back. Gliding his fingers along her even silkier and smoother skin, he pulled her gently into him as he deepened the kiss. With the way she kissed him, responded to him, he was feeling so much better. Once he straightened slightly, he said, "I thought you didn't know if you could make it."

"I lied," she told him with a mischievous grin. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

Bobby smiled wider as he told her, "It's a wonderful surprise, thank you."

"You're welcome, and the best part was I didn't have to cook a thing. We had tons of leftovers."

"Guess I have to call up your mother and thank her." Bobby leaned down to give her another kiss before finally letting her go so they could eat. "Need help?"

"No. Why don't you just sit down and get comfortable and let me serve you."

"If you really wanted to serve me you would do it without the dress," he teased and had to duck away from the flying dinner roll aimed at his head. Bobby only laughed as he sat at the table. She looked stunning in that dress. It was tight in all the right places and she fit it to perfection. It was hard to take his eyes off her in it so he didn't. "That's a very beautiful dress; a gift?"

"From Liz. She knew a woman who gave her a discount, buy one get one free deal, and so she was originally planning on getting herself two dresses but saw this and thought of me in it giving you a heart attack, so she got it."

Bobby shook his head as he watched as she moved around his kitchen, filling up two plates from the aluminum foil containers and bowls and Tupperware. "Anything to kill me, huh? I gotta admit, I like her style."

She was only smiling as she sat a plate down in front of him before putting hers on the table. He reached out and gripped her hand lightly, making her turn toward him. It had been a long, stressful day and he had missed her greatly. Today had been a turning point for everything in his life. Alex was moving in, the serial case might involve one the most powerful mob bosses in the five boroughs, and Detective Travis finally made his move with him even though he still wasn't sure what the implications of that was just yet. The changing currents were battling within him and if he was being honest with himself, he was scared. Terrified.

Bringing her hand up to his lips, Bobby kissed the back of it before turning it over to kiss the palm. Through all the chaos and the lies and secrets, there was one certainty he had in his life at the moment and that was Alex. She was quite possibly the only person he could truly trust, and had always trusted, in his most darkest of times. When all seemed lost, she was always there guiding him back. Staring up into her eyes, he felt himself shiver at the look in her eyes. It looked as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Alex cupped his jaw as she sat down in his lap. After giving him a kiss, she asked, "Tough day?"

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, as he gave a slight nod. Closing his eyes at the feel of her touch against his cheek, he tried hard to keep the dark thoughts away as he felt her fingers caress over his skin and her kisses over his lips. "Alex," he said as she released his lips to place another kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for dinner…but, I, uh…I'm not in the mood to eat."

Leaning back to look at him, she didn't look upset or disappointed that he had ruined her romantic Christmas night. She understood; she had been there before after many tough cases. After many bad days, nights, and weeks. "I'll wrap it up. We can always eat later."

"Sorry," he apologized but she gave him another kiss to silence it. Reluctantly he let her go as she stood and went about cleaning up.

"Anything you would like to talk about?" she asked as she took down the saran wrap and started covering the plates.

While he watched her, he felt like inside he was dying. He had no idea what was wrong with him. Why he felt like breaking down right there in front of her and crying his eyes out as he bared it all to her. He was dying from the guilt; it was tearing him apart. Shaking his head, he told her, "I'm letting you down, aren't I?"

Alex stopped putting the plastic wrap over the plate and sighed heavily. He watched as she rubbed at her forehead, a dead giveaway to her frustration. "Bobby, it's just dinner-"

"I'm not talking about dinner," he said a little too loud. He wasn't angry, he was just sick of it all. Sick of the games he had to play not only on the job but in his own house.

She stared over at him in stunned shock at his outburst.

Taking in shallow, painful breaths, Bobby told her, "I haven't been, uh…communicating enough lately. It's hard, and….and, I'm, uh, I'm still…adjusting."

Alex was silent for a long moment as she took the plates and put them in the refrigerator. Leaning back against it, she said, "A lot has happened. I'm still adjusting too." Walking up to him, she took his hand. "Come on, let's go get comfortable. I think a football game is on…or something."

Bobby chuckled as he let her pull her into the living room and then onto the couch. "Football game's over."

"Oh, shoot," she teased as she turned on the TV and flipped through the channels.

Bobby wasn't paying any attention to what she was watching as he let his eyes roam over her body. She had tucked her legs up under her on the couch and was playing with the necklace around her neck as she put the remote down and smiled slightly. "What is it?"

She pointed to the screen as she looked over at him. "'A Christmas Story' is on. It's my favorite Christmas movie. What's yours?"

He didn't look at the TV as he continued to look at her. "I don't know. I guess…'It's a Wonderful Life'. My mom always liked that one and we would watch it together."

Alex's eyes softened as she continued to look into his eyes. "You two watch a lot of movies together?"

He was unsure why she was so interested in something like that but he answered anyway. Shrugging, he told her, "We used to, not so much anymore."

Leaning down into her, he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her lips. Alex stopped questioning him as she deepened the kiss as her hands ran along his neck, through his hair. Moving her down along the couch, he settled between her legs as he continued to make love to her mouth.

All thoughts of the cases and his inner turmoil were buried as he gave himself to the act of pleasing her. His hands slid along her bare thighs and up under the dress as he moved his kissing lips from hers to her neck, and then her bare chest. The heat in the apartment along with the heat they were creating were getting to be too much for him as he felt himself begin to suffocate.

"Hang on," he told her as he pushed himself up and took off his jacket.

As he was starting to undo his tie, Alex began telling him about her week at work. "I solved my first case back."

Smiling down at her, Bobby gave her a kiss as he pulled the tie from around his neck and slung it over the couch. "That's great."

"Well, it isn't official yet. I've got to wait until Monday to get the warrants and for Carver, but it's pretty much a done deal." She grew quiet as he started kissing her again on the lips and then went back to making her squirm under him as he attacked the skin that the dress wasn't covering. "I'm still disappointed in being taken off the Connelly case though. We were getting so close…Did I tell you that Deakins took me and Copeland off it?"

Bobby closed his eyes and groaned at the distraction she was causing him. He didn't want to talk about work, especially the Connelly case. "I uh, I think I heard something about it, yeah." The guilt that he had felt earlier was threatening his heart again.

"It was so confusing, and complicated, and I wanted to solve it so bad. I wanted to prove to the Captain and the Brass that I could, that me and Copeland could solve it. I felt cheated out of a great solve, and a great case, when they took it from us. They're letting it drop, can you believe that?"

Bobby breathed out deeply against her skin as he heard the disappointment in her voice. She sounded disappointed in herself, like she wasn't sure if she was good enough. Not without him. He pushed up once again on his forearms so he could look down at her. "Hey, that case, what happened with it, it's not your fault." He tried to figure out what to tell her but the more the thought about it the worse he felt.

She knew! Why was he still torturing himself with keeping the secrets from her? Did he think that he deserved it? That he was protecting her by ignoring the truth that she knew? That she was getting more and more involved and it scared the life out of him?

He went to speak again when he felt the sweat running down his neck and coating his back. "Jesus, Alex, why is it so fucking hot in here?" Getting up, he stormed off the to bedroom to undress and get out of the clothes that were starting to stick to his body. Sitting down heavily on his bed, he kicked off his shoes and was in the middle of tugging his shirt off when Alex walked into the room. "I know," he suddenly told her.

"You know what?"

"I know that you're lying to me." He leveled her with his eyes and saw the worry and the sense of fear that overtook her eyes. She was afraid of him again, and he couldn't blame her. "And, you know I'm lying to you," he calmly finished, trying to ease her fears.

Alex took a deep breath as she crossed her arms over her chest. Nodding a little, she told him, "I never meant to break my promise."

"Yeah," he said as he tossed the shirt into the walk-in closet and then proceeded to unfasten his belt. "You were just…what, exactly? Following Copeland's lead?" He took his pants off and threw them after the shirt before going over to the dresser and opening the bottom drawer.

"We didn't even know at the time what the deal was," she was telling him as he pulled out a pair of sweatpants. "I didn't know if Rivers was actually threatening me, or him, or you…I didn't know if he was genuinely concerned for me or playing us. I still don't."

Bobby closed his eyes as he felt the anger growing darker, deeper. He didn't want to lose his control with her again. He didn't want this to cloud his judgment, cloud his reasoning. He didn't want to feel anything at the moment except understanding, but he couldn't. He felt the same emotion he felt when Logan had told him. Betrayed. "You promised."

"I know I did, and I'm sorry, but it's not like you've been completely honest with me."

Opening his eyes, he turned to face her with his sweats clutched in his hand. The moment he saw the fear, the sense of disappointment in her eyes, he nearly crumbled. His head was starting to hurt as he took a deep breath and with as much restraint as possible, told her, "You're right." At seeing the disbelief, he said, "I haven't. You were there that night, you saw."

Alex had braced herself for a fight and when it didn't come, he saw her deflate as she crossed her arms. "How'd you know I was there?"

"My contact saw you." Bobby knew once he said it that it would change things, but he had no idea how uttering that single sentence would change everything.

"Your contact," Alex said, repeating what he had just told her. "So, you are undercover." She shook her head at him as she asked, "You could've told me."

"No, I couldn't," he stressed as he stepped closer to her, feeling the fight coming back into the both of them. "You were working the Connelly case and we weren't even back together when I agreed to do it."

"You know I would've found out eventually." Alex uncrossed her arms and stepped up to him. "I can help you if-"

"I don't need your help," he forcefully told her. "You have no idea who I'm up against in all this. There are so many ways this can go wrong and…and I can barely protect my own self. Yet alone protect you."

"I'm your partner," she angrily told him.

"No you're not," Bobby snapped back. "You used to be, now you're my girlfriend and I will not allow you to get mixed up with these people."

Alex looked at if he'd smacked her across the face with that. She glared at him in stunned silence before she said, "You won't _allow_ me?"

Bobby knew he was taking it too far but there was no way in hell he would let her get involved with the darkness that was slowly consuming him. "That's right, _allow_. This isn't negotiable."

"But I have to do something. I can't just sit on the sidelines and-"

"Why not? I'm sorry, but I don't care about how much you want to be a part of this, it's not going to happen."

"What if I take it to Deakins?"

Bobby groaned and rubbed at his head. At seeing the sweats still clenched in his hand, he quickly pulled them on. The apartment was still burning up so he went over to the window as he told her, "What are you going to do, huh? Pull rank on me?" Pushing the window open, his breath caught at the freezing cold air that hit his bare chest.

"It'll get too cold in here with that open."

He turned to her and angrily shot back, "It's burning up in here! What'd you do, turn on the heat and the radiator?" Moving pass her, he went out into the hallway and felt the steam coming off the radiator. Reaching under it, he turned it off before heading into the kitchen. He needed something cold to drink as his body felt dry from the hot air.

"You're not going to get me to back off this by picking a fight about the temperature, Bobby," she told him as she followed behind him.

Bobby pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of beer. "I wasn't trying…I get hot easily and it felt like I was suffocating." Twisting the cap off, he tossed it onto the table before taking a long drink to not only calm down but to give him time to think about what he was going to tell her. Once he felt more in control, he told her, "I'm in charge of who gets involved and who doesn't, and you're not getting involved. That's final, Eames."

Alex shook her head as she told him just as strictly, "Well, then that's just too bad, Goren, because I already am involved. I've been involved in this the moment I let you back into my life. I got involved when Deakins assigned me the Connelly case. And I got involved when Rivers showed up in my squad room. No matter how much you try to protect me it's not going to be enough to-"

"Don't say that," he snapped, interrupting her. Bobby felt the fear that gripped his heart when she spoke those words. He was going to protect her and it would be enough. He would give his life to protect hers. "Don't. You're going to stay clear of this operation. If Rivers comes around you, tell me, tell Deakins, Copeland, I don't care, but do not put yourself out there for them. If you love me at all you'll do that."

"I…I can't believe you just said that. You're forcing me to choose by using my love for you? You're trying to manipulate me into backing off."

Bobby didn't realize that he was doing that until she pointed it out to him, but he had no other choice. He knew no other way. "Then don't make me do it. Tell me you'll stay out of it."

Alex worked her jaw and he was afraid of hard look in her eyes. He was afraid that he had overstepped it, took it too far. "Fine, I'll stay out of it."

"Is that a promise?"

"Would you believe it coming from me?"

Bobby blinked back at the bitterness in her voice before he gave a curt nod.

Alex's tensed jaw didn't ease as she turned and went to leave the kitchen.

"I still trust you…believe in you," he spoke softly to her retreating back as he watched her go.

She stopped and turned to face him; the pain was evident in her eyes as she let some of the tension ease. Then she told him, "I hope the couch is comfortable to sleep on."

Bobby stared after her as she disappeared into the darkness of the room. Seconds later he heard his bedroom door close right before he heard the window being slammed shut. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he wandered into the living room and looked around. At spotting the Christmas tree that was dark and looking like an obstruction in his house, he downed the beer, sat the empty bottle on the table, and then went over to it.

He yanked the plug to the lights out of the wall and then proceeded to carry it, decorations and all, out the front door. It took a struggle to get it through the door and down the steps but he got it out of his home and onto the sidewalk as his feet froze in the snow. He hadn't bothered to put any shoes or shirt or anything else on.

"What are you doing?"

Looking up, he saw Alex standing on the stoop in her silk pajamas shivering against the cold. He didn't answer her as he started to drag the tree down the sidewalk to where the trash bins were on the corner.

"You're going to get sick again."

Bobby ignored her as he focused on not slipping on ice as he made it to the corner. Dumping the tree with everything on it on the corner, he huffed out the cold air that filled his lungs. As he started to walk back to his door, Alex came down the steps with the star that had fallen off the top of the tree.

Stopping in front of him, she handed it to him. "You throwing this out too?"

He looked down at the star in her hand. Breathing deeply, Bobby shook his head. "We're keeping it."

Alex stared up into his eyes and he saw the apology glistening in hers. It was the same apology he felt in his heart as he moved closer to her. He wrapped her up in his arms, taking in her warmth, as he shook against the cold.

Alex let him hold her for a moment before she pulled away and took his hand. "It's freezing out here and neither one of us thought to put shoes on."

Bobby smiled a little as he helped her back up the steps. Once inside, he locked the door and then followed her to the bedroom.

"I'm stepping all over pine needles."

"I'll clean it in the morning," he told her as he gripped her hips from behind, stopping her before she reached the room. Bobby leaned down, giving her a kiss against her ear before admitting, "I'm scared, Alex."

She stopped and turned in his arms. Her look was powerful, it sent him reeling with shame, and guilt, for keeping this from her for so long. "Why are you scared?"

Bobby shook his head and tried to reason it out in his own head why he was feeling so afraid. "Because, what, uh, what I'm doing, what I'm up against…The more I know, the more I want to just go at this all by myself. The more I want to protect everyone around me. That's why I can't have you anywhere near it. Can you accept that, please?"

Alex looked wounded and he understood exactly why she was so stubborn with wanting to help. If things had been reversed, if he was the one on the outside having to watch her do the things he had to do, he would move heaven and earth to help her. The only difference between them was that he would have never asked for permission. "I'll try, but if something happens and I'm faced with having to make a choice, you know I'll have to break that promise too."

He wanted to smile, to feel grateful for the amount of love and devotion she had for him. All he felt just then was sorrow and pain. Fear and worry. He didn't want her to have to make that kind of decision. Ever.

Bobby figured as he stared down into her eyes, he had to be the one to back down. He had to accept her decision. "Yeah, okay. Just, uh…don't go looking for it." Glancing toward the bed in the room, he asked, "Do I still have to sleep on my couch?"

Smiling slightly, Alex shook her head as she pulled him with her into the bedroom. Snuggling up against him in the bed, she went right to sleep as he watched her. He, on the other hand, couldn't sleep.

Bobby stayed up all night as his thoughts took over, making it impossible to sleep. Before he knew it the alarm was beeping. He shut it off as he felt her stir in his arms. Kissing her temple, he softly told her, "Go back to sleep."

Alex mumbled something in her sleep and then settled, returning to the comfort of her dreams.

TBC…


	25. What if I don't want to compromise?

A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews! Please keep them coming, I really like to know what you all think!

Enjoy!

* * *

He left Alex to sleep as he got ready for work. Taking with him to the bathroom a pair of boxers, black pants, and t-shirt, he took his time as he let the hot spray beat down on his tense muscles. Without getting any sleep, he felt sore and his muscles tight which intensified the pain clenching them. It was so painful that it was nearly impossible to concentrate on cleaning himself, yet alone the task of shaving. He took a pain pill and downed two glasses of water before going back to the bedroom. Alex stirred in her sleep, burying herself deeper into the pillows and under the blanket. He wished he could crawl into bed, bury himself in her warmth and sleep for the day, but he had work to do. A killer to catch.

While he watched Alex sleeping through the mirror that was on the inside of the closet door, he thought about how peaceful and vulnerable she looked. He didn't like making her angry with him like he had done last night. He really didn't like his possessiveness; the aching in his heart to keep her as safe and untouched by the chaos he surrounded himself with. The reason he didn't like it was because it scared him in knowing that he _had_ to be that possessive. He _had_ to protect her. If he didn't then bad things could happen.

It was worse than the amount of protectiveness he held for her while they worked together. When they were partners, he had to give some of that up knowing she had to have his back. That she had to put herself in danger, but at work he was there with her. He never left her side. He would have thrown himself in front of any bullet or danger that came her way easily. No thought required.

But now he wasn't there. She was out there alone without him. Yeah, he knew that Copeland would back her up, as any partner would, but it wasn't the same. He had no control over it himself. It all came back to his lack of control. And he knew that the one person he couldn't control was her. If Alex wanted to go out there and put herself in danger for him, to protect _him_, she would. She was just as stubborn as he was and he knew she wouldn't back down.

No amount of his pleading or his fears or his love could keep her from doing something, anything, in order to have his back. She fought for him with her family, friends, at work…and she would fight for him now. She loved him that much. As he buttoned the top button on his dress shirt, his eyes clenched shut as he felt the sting of tears threatening to fall. She did love him, stronger and deeper than he ever thought possible. Getting a strangled breath out, he opened his eyes and looked at her once again through the mirror. Blinking the tears back, he took the teal colored tie off the corner of the mirror.

As he pulled the tie over his shoulders he felt oddly conflicted. Part of him was amazed, grateful for the amount of devotion she felt which propelled her to see to it that he would get through this. Then there was a part of him that feared that devotion. He knew what that kind of relentless thinking, and love, could do. He had been there for her and still was. He had nearly thrown away everything, including his life, to save Alex from a sadist killer three months ago. And because of that obsessive behavior and the fear it caused him, he had almost lost her. Now that he had her back, he was bound and determined not to let anything like that happen again.

However, just as last time, he had no control over the dangers that not only awaited him but her. His hands shook while he tried for the second time at tying the tie. He bit back a curse as he scolded himself for letting his fear get to him. After the third time and his fingers still fumbled with the fabric, he dropped his hands as he felt-not for the first time-the weight pressing down on him. It sent his head spinning as he stumbled back against the doorframe right before his knees gave, sending him sliding to the floor.

Cradling his pounding head in his hands, his thoughts swirled into darkness. Through all the pain and fear, his feelings of loss and uncertainty, he held to one hope: that through it all, and after, she would be there. That Alex would always be there supporting him. He hoped that she would never stop loving him.

Yeah, she could bring out the worse in him, but she also brought out the best. He didn't want to lose that.

It would kill him.

He was broken out of the darkness by a sound. It sparked his fear as he listened more closely. Someone was there, in his house. Getting up he grabbed his gun off the dresser and headed out into the hallway.

"Goren!"

Releasing a breath, he walked into the kitchen. "What're you doing here?" he asked Elliot as he sat the gun down on the counter.

Elliot barely acknowledged him as he answered simply, "Getting my stuff. I'll be out of here soon enough."

As Elliot went around his house gathering his stuff into bags, Bobby started a pot of coffee. He needed a distraction from the spiraling darkness and the interaction with Elliot would give him that. He knew Elliot was still pissed off with him because he was still pissed off with Elliot, but he was his friend. He didn't have very many friends. There were plenty of acquaintances; people he knew that could help him get the things he needed. Guys he knew he could talk to in order to get information during the course of his work. Contacts he had picked up along the way from people he met or from his friends, and sometimes, his family.

However, when it came to actual friends, guys he hung out with and entrusted himself to, he only had five with Mike Logan slowly but surely making it six. He couldn't and didn't want to lose Elliot Stabler as a friend all over a disagreement.

Elliot came back into the kitchen with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and a big duffel bag in his right hand.

"Hey, uh…" As Elliot stopped and faced him, Bobby didn't know what to say to him. Nothing sounded right coming from him, especially to another man. It felt weird and a little awkward. Still uncertain of what to say, quickly asked, "Want a cup of coffee? It's early…and, pretty cold out."

Elliot stood staring at him for a long moment before sighing and dropping both bags to the floor next to the door. "Sure."

Bobby took two cups down and filled both. After handing one to Elliot, he went and leaned against the counter to give them both space. "So…who is she?"

Elliot slightly froze as he was bringing the cup up to his lips. Staring wide at him, he tried to recover himself quickly without giving anything away but it hadn't worked. "She?"

Smiling slightly he asked again, "C'mon, you can't fool me. You've been spending less and less time here, you haven't slept on my couch in nearly a week, and you've found this new apartment so quickly…"

"I've been sleeping at the department until just a few days ago when I finally got my own bed. There is no she. I'm still married," Elliot snapped at him in anger.

Instinctively he felt like pushing, he felt like getting Elliot to admit to him that he was, in fact, seeing someone else, but he decide to drop it. Elliot did just call him 'Bobby' again. "Alright, my mistake." After a moment of neither one of them speaking, he asked, "How was your Christmas?"

"Good," Elliot said with a sense of relief that the other subject was dropped. "Yours?"

"Besides getting called into work, it was nice. I, uh…I asked Alex to move in with me."

Elliot seemed stunned by that, but everyone was stunned by that. "Wow. How did that go?"

He took a sip of the hot coffee before answering, "She'll be completely moved in by the new year."

"Congratulations."

Bobby smiled a little before he took a drink.

Elliot was watching him as he asked, "You're not okay with that?"

"I'm the one who asked her," Bobby answered as he looked down into the cup in his hand. " If I wasn't okay then…" he trailed off as he didn't know how to answer that.

"Would you stop being elusive. I hate it when you do that."

Bobby breathed out as he took a bigger gulp of the coffee. This was why he liked Elliot as his friend. The guy wasn't a pushover like Lewis could be sometimes. Elliot didn't take none of his bullshit and when he was having a hard time expressing himself, of figuring out how to express himself to the woman he loved, Elliot would give him a good kick in his ass. Taking a moment to think it over, he knew that he wasn't answering due to the fact that his fears weren't subsiding as he thought they should. "Okay, when you and Kathy first lived together, were you, you know…concerned?"

Elliot was actually laughing at him at that question. "Hell yeah I was, but I was also twenty years old. I was still young and not really thinking about the future and all the struggles that came with being with someone. It's a huge step. It's the ultimate test: can you actually live with the person you love? A lot of people find out they can't, not without a lot of compromising."

This was also another reason he enjoyed Elliot as his friend. Not only was Elliot not a pushover, but he had lived for over twenty years what he was just starting to accept and open up to now. Most of his friends were single, the few that weren't were too busy and he hadn't talked to them in a long time. Then there was Lewis, who would be married for the first time on Friday. "What if I don't want to compromise?"

"Doesn't matter," Elliot strictly, and plainly told him, "you do it anyway. You have to consider what's more important. And, if you can't decide or figure it out, just agree with her. Nod your head and move on."

Bobby stared at Elliot and saw the seriousness in his eyes. "I like everything the way it is."

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Then don't. Maybe you'll have one of those very rare relationships where you both agree to disagree, don't change anything for the benefit of each other, and can actually stay together despite it all."

"Hold up, I didn't say anything about not doing things to benefit her. I'm benefiting her by having her move in with me."

"Why are you getting mad at me?"

"I'm not-" Bobby stopped himself as he realized that he was getting angry with Elliot and there was no reason for it. "You started it."

"No, you started it by telling me you asked Alex to move in with you." Elliot downed the rest of the coffee and got up to put it in the sink. "Anyway," he told him as he rinsed the cup out. "I was meaning to tell you that, with what was said, I'm over it. We're cool."

Bobby finished his coffee and sat the empty cup on the counter. "I've, uh, been meaning to apologize for, uh," he had to clear his throat before continuing, "for being an asshole. You're not a coward."

Elliot frowned a little as he looked to the floor. "And I don't actually think you're a _masochist_ momma's boy, but you do have a weird and possibly unhealthy relationship with your mother."

Bobby didn't know how to take that. "Because I stayed? She needs me. I'm all she has left and…and I, I want to take care of her."

Elliot crossed his arms and looked at him. "Really? You want your life this way?"

"What's wrong with my life?" he asked as his defenses were rising.

"Think about it, think about how much time you devote yourself just to her. If things had been different, if your father hadn't had left or she had family that were willing to be there for her when you couldn't, could you honestly say that you would be _this_ devout? I mean, you put a lot of your life on hold in order to please her. It's no wonder you've never married or had a long term relationship, you have no time for it. I don't even know how you find time to be with Alex."

Bobby could barely breathe his chest was hurting so bad. He knew Elliot was right; that if circumstances had been different, if his family had been more caring and loving, things would have been amazingly different for him. "We, we worked it out," he answered, referring to finding the time to be with Alex.

"You worked it out? How did you do that exactly? You two used to work together so I'm guessing that's where most of the time came from." Elliot was quiet a moment before telling him, "This, right now what you're doing with asking her to move in, that's working it out." When he only just looked at him, he asked, "Do you even understand why you asked her to do that?"

"Because I want her here. I'm, uh…I'm helping her out and, and I uh, I think it's time…"

Elliot shook his head at him. "That didn't sound too convincing. What happened to that rational, over analytical mind of yours?"

Bobby sighed in frustration and rubbed at his head. "It's…I'm not," he breathed out as he realized that he was so confused he could barely think straight. He briefly remembered what he had said to Dr. Charles Webb years ago and it came angrily out of his own mouth, "No one's rational when they're in love…that's the whole point."

Elliot, for once, agreed with him. "Yeah, I think it is. I mean, look at you?" Bobby glared at him and he went on, "Okay, I'm going to help clarify things for you." Taking a deep breath and grabbing him by the shoulders, he told him, "You and her are no longer partners and you're realizing now that you have to work harder at making this work. For the first time in probably your whole life, you changed something in order to be with someone else. Before, I'm certain that you would've had a panic attack over the idea. You're missing her, you want to spend more time with her because she's no longer around you 24/7 like she was when you two were partners.…Do you see where I'm going? Are you following me at all?"

Bobby took a moment to take that all in before he nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I'm following. So…yeah, I get it. Before, I didn't think we should move in because we spent all our time together at work, and after work…It would have been too much to actually live in the same house. Now, everything's changed and I'm missing her like crazy."

"Right, so in order to rectify that you asked her to move in." Elliot was smiling at him as he asked, "Are you still concerned or are you seeing how this isn't a bad thing but a very good thing?"

Smiling slightly himself, he said, "It's a necessary change to…to balance my world back in order; I'm, leveling it out."

"Hey, look at you actually learning something from me." Elliot slapped him on the shoulder as he told him, "Glad I could help."

"Why are you so separated from your mother?" he suddenly asked.

Elliot's smile faded as he stared hard at him. "Jesus, Bobby, you sure do know how to turn something completely around don't you?" He was quiet for a moment and Bobby didn't think he was going to answer, then finally he told him, "She left when I was a kid. And it's not like she's living homeless on the street. She has her own place on the beach. I can't talk to her, don't even know how to begin to understand her. If she was able to accept her illness, take her medication, then…I don't know, maybe I'll be willing to try harder at staying connected."

"If you ever want help with that, you can always call me," Bobby sincerely told him. "Your children, they might like to know their grandmother."

That got Elliot's consideration as his eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't know…maybe." He eyed him for a moment before saying, "Before I go, I gotta ask. Why are there pine needles all over your floor and where's the tree?"

"Bobby and the tree got into a scuffle last night. I think the tree lost."

Both men turned to see Alex walk into the kitchen. She was wearing her red silk pajamas and Bobby immediately felt the urge to throw a robe over her since Elliot was there.

"Oh, yeah?" Elliot asked as he smiled at her. "I would've put twenty on the tree. Good morning, Alex. I hear you two moving in together, congratulations."

Alex smiled at that as he pulled her into a hug. "Thanks," she said as she gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Now, move, I need coffee and you two are standing in my way."

Bobby saw Elliot move but he stayed where he was. Leaning down, he caught her in a kiss before she could say or do anything about it.

Elliot cleared his throat then said, "Look at the time. Well, I'm out of here."

Bobby chuckled as he released Alex from his kiss. "Need help?" he asked as he finally let her get that cup of coffee.

"Nah, I'm good." Elliot picked up the gym bag and slung it over his left shoulder before holding out his hand to him. Bobby shook it as he told him, "Thanks again for letting me stay."

"No problem." Bobby went to the door and opened it for him.

"Oh, hey," Elliot called over to Alex. "I don't know if Liv got a hold of you or not, but she said she'll help you today with the packing."

Bobby stilled and glared at Elliot then looked to Alex who tried to look as innocent as an angel. "Wait…" turning to Elliot, he asked, "You knew? He knew?" Looking back and forth between the two, he mumbled under his breath, "Son-of-a…You conspired against me."

"It wasn't against you, we helped," Elliot told him as he only smiled wide at him.

"You lied. You acted like you didn't know anything about me and Alex moving in together."

"I didn't lie. I said nothing about not knowing. Why'd you think I came by this morning to get my stuff?" Elliot asked him as he went to leave. "It's the day after Christmas, I should be sleeping in right now with a serious hangover."

As Elliot walked out the door, he let his anger go; he wasn't really that mad. He was just upset about being blindsided like that. Giving Elliot a not too hard slap on the back, he told him, "Take it easy. I'll see you around."

"Yeah, and hey, Super Bowl party at my new apartment."

"I'll mark my calendar." Bobby watched as Elliot left before he went back inside and shut the door. Turning to Alex, he asked as he walked up to her, "So, when did you work this little intervention out?"

Alex went to protest but she was blushing red before she even opened her mouth to lie. "When I called Liv yesterday," she told him before she took a sip of the coffee.

"Huh-uh." Bobby smirked as he wrapped his arms around her waist and stared down at her. "You thought I needed some help with this? Someone to kick my own ass for me?"

She laughed at him as she sat her cup down. "Yes, I did actually." She ran her hands up his chest and he couldn't help but shiver at the feel of it. Wrapping her hands around the back of his neck, she said, "Elliot's a good friend for you. When you're too busy over thinking and freaking out he's there to kick your ass when I can't. You wouldn't have talked to me about it. You needed guy talk."

It hurt for him to hear that she didn't think he would have talked to her, but it was the truth. He wouldn't have. If she would had confronted him about it he would have either played it off, tried to reassure her, or went on the defense. Sighing, he dropped his head at the disappointment her felt once again at letting her down.

"Hey, it's okay," Alex was saying as she tried to reassure him. "There are times when I have to talk things out with my family or friends first before I can bring it up to you."

Nodding slightly, Bobby tried to let himself accept that. Leaning down, he gave her a kiss. "I got to get to work. I told the Lieu I'll put in a half day then I was planning on going up to see my mother."

"Oh," she said, sounding surprised.

Bobby was confused by that reaction, asking, "What? It's Sunday."

"I know it's Sunday. I just thought that maybe you might've decided to help me."

He could hear the argument coming on as he told her, "You're not going to need my help. You're going to have your whole family helping you."

"It's not my whole family. Liz, Angie, and now Liv. Three people and not one of them is the man I'm going to be living with."

Bobby breathed out and looked to the floor. She had to make this difficult. "So, yeah, okay three people," he said looking back up at her. "And what do you have planned for today? Organizing, throwing things out, and probably a little bit of packing. You're not going to need me. Not until you're actually ready to bring things over and move the furniture."

Alex was looking frustrated as she shook her head, fitfully saying, "Fine. You're right, I don't need you." She went over to the refrigerator and started pulling out food to get breakfast going. "I'm going to do it all by myself."

"Alex…"

"No, I don't even know why I thought you'll be willing to give up a day to help me organize and throw things out and pack. I mean I am the one that wants to move in with you so quickly. I'm the one that wants to live here by the end of the week. If I leave it up to you, I won't be moved in until _next Christmas_."

He could only stand there and watch as she hasty went about cooking breakfast at the same time going off on him for his decision to not help her. The more she scolded him, the more he wanted to just leave and go to work. Instead, he shook his head and went over to the closet by the door and got out the broom and dustpan.

As he cleaned the floor of the pine needles, he thought about all the things they hadn't discussed about the move, like the payment of the bills. Was he actually going to ask her to start paying half on everything? He wouldn't even let her pay for dinner most of the time. And then there was still so much he didn't know about her, and that she didn't know about him. Living together was going to bring a lot of those things forth. By the time he was done cleaning he was so lost in his head he didn't even stop to tell her bye. Grabbing his overcoat and all his stuff, he was out the door.

* * *

He didn't get a whole hell of a lot done at work. They ran the names, got rap sheets for all the women for prostitution and some drugs but all in all there wasn't much. The first victim Michelle Costello was still a mystery to him. She didn't have much a history in the system with only a few arrests. Work history proved just as disheartening as the woman never held down a legit job since she was in her early twenties as a bartender before she got arrested for drugs. The drug charge didn't led to jail time but after that the woman's life became like a lot of other people's lives who got hooked on heroin. Homelessness led to unsavory deals and lifestyle that lead to solicitation and that was what got her to the whorehouse on Coney Island and then her death. The endless cycle.

The half day at work seemed pointless. He did what little paperwork there was to do and put the files that Mike needed to sign on his desk. Mike, since he stayed yesterday to work, took today off. He didn't mind it, especially when he found so little. Trace came back sometime last night and confirmed that the material found in the lacerations on the neck was from the same type of silk fabric that they found in Jessica Fox's wounds. It seemed their killer used the same red scarf or tie to strangle the women.

As his mind tried to make the connections he needed to solve the crime and finger out his next moves, his body was growing more and more exhausted. He always tried to not let himself slip too far, or to at least avoid being around people when it happened, but he could literally lose himself so deeply into his head that he was oblivious to the world around him. Nothing could get through. Not phones ringing, people's voices, noises from a TV, changing of light, movements, touches…they all were lost on him even though his eyes were slightly open and he was awake. It used to happen a lot when he was a kid, as a teenager, and it only happened now when he was so focused on his thoughts and tired that he held no control over it.

It reminded him of the times when his mother would zoned out, get lost in her head and the delusions, the voices, and she would appear to be a living, breathing statute. He remembered being scared by it, and terrified when he found himself doing the exact same thing. His mind, however, weren't ruled by a non-existent world, but a very real and very dangerous one. And he needed to figure out how to get a grip on it before he really did lose it.

Someone was touching him, shaking him slightly, as the room around him came into focus, sounds exploded in his ears and he jerked with a start as he blinked his eyes.

Doris was looking down at him and she was fully of concern as she asked, "Mr. Goren?"

Bobby shifted in the chair he had been waiting in and cleared his throat. "I'm fine," he told her. "Just tired. Um…can I go back now?"

The nurse that he had known for years and come to rely on to look after his mother gave him a skeptical frown as she told him, "Yes, you can. She's out of the shower now and in the dayroom."

He could also physically exhaust himself from thinking too much, as he just done. Bobby had the urge to get up and hurry down the hall but he couldn't get his body to fully process that command. Rubbing a hand over his face and then over his head, he gave a nod. "I'll go back inna minute. Thanks."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Doris asked. "You didn't respond for a couple of minutes before-"

"I'm sure, but thanks…for the concern," he told her as he leaned forward on rubbed his hands over his eyes, trying to wake himself up. He hadn't been asleep but he felt like he had just been woken too early from a heavy sleep. His mind was foggy, his body felt sluggish, and he was groggy.

He was able to push himself up to his feet and as soon as he started walking he felt as if his legs were going to give up on him. His walk was slow as he went to the doors and pressed the code the opened them to his wing his mother stayed in. Beyond the doors he greeted a few other nurses who were walking around with some of the residents/patients. Everyone that worked there and most of who lived there knew him by name. The nurses called him Mr. Goren while the residents always called him Frances' son Bobby.

Smiling politely back at the greetings and waving a little to some of them, he made his way down the long hall to the dayroom where Doris said his mother was. His head was starting to pound from a headache; stopping one of the nurses that was walking by, he asked her a little shamefully if he could get something for it.

"No problem, Mr. Goren. I'll bring you a couple of Tylenol as soon as I check in on Mrs. Davenport."

After thanking her, he continued on his way and soon he was entering the dayroom. It was full of lively activity. Games were being played, the television was going in the corner and showing an show he wasn't familiar with but it looked to be a soap opera. Looking around the room, he spotted his mother sitting on one of the couches that looked out the sliding doors and into the garden that was frozen over with snow and ice. Walking up behind the couch he could see her wrapped in a beautiful quilt he hadn't had seen before and holding a mug. Hanging over the side of the mug was the string to a tea bag.

Moving around the side of the couch, he eased down next to her and smiled when she looked to see who it was that was sitting next to her.

Her eyes lit up in surprise before she exclaimed, "Bobby! You're here?"

"Why wouldn't I be? It's Sunday," he told her as he waited for her to initiate the physical contact. Some days she didn't mind it, and then others it was impossible to get a hug out of her.

She didn't make any move toward him. No holding out her arm for a hug, no hand for him to take, and no move forward to let him give her a quick kiss on her cheek. Feeling the rejection and trying not to let it get to him, he turned his attention to the scenery out the sliding doors. It was a pretty beautiful sight. The icicle tree branches, the snow, the blue sky and clouds…

"I just thought what with you not being her yesterday that you wouldn't bother showing up today either."

Biting his lip, he took the scolding and gave a slight nod. He knew that yesterday she was still coming down from being sedated the day before, and that she was still confused and angry and highly agitated. It seemed she was still agitated and had no problem dishing it out to him for not being there for Christmas. He didn't tell her the reason why he wouldn't be there. There was no desire in him to let her know about Alex and the fact that he spent the holiday with her family instead of with _his_ family.

"I'm sorry," he tried for an apology even though it wouldn't matter. "I had to work."

"You had to work. You're always working when I need you here."

Bobby glanced to the floor and thought about that but not too much. If he did then he would think himself into a depression. It was going to be one of those days where he had to watch everything that came out of his mouth. Not to protect her, but to protect himself from her. Even though he knew his reasons, and thought he knew the man that he was, she could still make him question it. Question the kind of son he was, the man he was, and the love he had for her. He tried not too, but…but dammit, he couldn't help it. No matter how he tried to reason it with himself, he really didn't completely know who he was half the time. What kind of man he could be and the man that he was.

It was hard for him to figure it out having never had a man to really look up to, to compare himself to. His father was a man he looked up to until he realized who his father really was. Then he became the exact opposite of the man he wanted to be. Some days he had it figured out, some days he was too scared to even think about it, and then there were the days when he felt so lost to who he was that he didn't even want to be who he was.

Alex seemed to get him, to know who he was and what he was capable of having put him in his place many times when he wasn't sure of anything. If there was anyone who could pin him down and tell him with all honestly and truth what he was it was her. After all, when he saw the love she held inside of her, it was like he was seeing the love that he held in his own soul. When he looked at her, he could see himself; at least the man he could be with a woman like her by his side for the rest of his life.

"…are you even listening to me?"

Bobby tugged at his collar as he realized that he hadn't been paying any attention to his mother as he lost himself in his thoughts again. Taking in the view of the frozen garden and the woods beyond it one last time, he turned to his mom as he started to undo his tie. Sighing heavily, he gave up the feeble apology he wanted to say and instead said, "That's a really nice quilt."

Frances looked down at it with something in her eyes he rarely saw. She looked happy about it, excited. "You think? It's nice and warm, I'm glad Frank got it for me."

At that, he stiffened and eyed his mother and then the quilt and then her again. "Frank was here?" he asked as he pulled the tie from around his neck and folded it up to put in his suit jacket pocket.

The irritation was back as she told him, "Of course, yesterday he dropped by. This was his Christmas present for me."

Bobby tried to settle his sudden beating heart. Once again he felt that Frank one upped him in the eyes of their mother and he, and the gift he got for her, wasn't good enough. "It's, um…very beautiful. Did he stay long?"

"Not too long, you know how busy he can get. We talked for a while, and he told me that he saw you on a casino boat."

He gave a slight nod and wondered what kind of tale his brother wove. Frank was notorious for taking any innocent thing and turning it into something it wasn't; he was worse than the NYPD's rumor mill. "Yeah, I was working a case and he was there. We talked…He seemed good."

She only nodded at that and went to take some drinks from the cup of tea she was still holding.

Bobby watched her until he felt his phone vibrate just before it started ringing. "Excuse me, mom, I gotta take this," he told her when he saw it was Alex calling. She gave a dismissive wave like she wasn't expecting him back as he got up and headed toward the hallway. "Hey," he answered. "What's going on?"

"I just realized we haven't discussed anything about this move. Whose furniture are we keeping?"

He was rubbing his neck on fire as he asked, "What?"

"Furniture," she emphasized as he heard the frustration in her voice. He had no idea what Alex had been doing all day with the move, but she sounded pissed as hell just then. "What are we going to do with it? Am I putting mine in storage or are we going to keep it?"

Closing his eyes, he felt his own frustration building and it had nothing to do with the woman he was talking to. Plus, he didn't care what she did with the furniture. As long as he had something to sit on… "Do what you want with it. If you want to keep it, we can put it in the living room."

"And what about your stuff?"

"We-we, can, I can put my couch in-in, the, um…in the study."

"You have three walls of bookcases in your study," she flatly told him.

"Then I can take one out and put it in the living room. Alex, whatever you want to bring to make you feel at home and comfortable, bring it, okay. I really don't care about whose couch we keep or-"

"Why am I not surprised that you don't care about any of this."

He gapped at that and stood stunned in the hallway as he tried to come up with a response to that bitter comment. "I care, it's just…" he sighed as he leaned against the wall. Looking down the hall he saw the nurse with his Tylenol coming toward him. "Hey-uh, hang on," he told her before dropping the phone to his chest and meeting the nurse halfway. "Thanks," he told her again before asking, "Were you working yesterday?"

"Yep, all day. Is there anything wrong?"

"Only if your answer is no," he told her before downing the pills with the glass of water she handed him. "Did…um, was my brother here?"

"He stopped by for….about half an hour? He gave her that quilt," she told him with a look of sympathy.

It was known by now around the entire staff that his mother favored Frank over him despite everything. Bobby handed the glass back to her and gave a nod before raising the phone. "Listen, can we talk…" he trailed off as he heard the dial tone in his ear.

She hung up on him. Closing his eyes and snapping the phone shut, he took a deep breath and felt like banging his head against the wall.

A while later, when he helped his mother back to her room when she started to complain that she was getting tired, he looked around for the gift he had gotten for her. It wasn't that important for him to know what she did with the jewelry music box but he couldn't get it off his mind. He couldn't get the tightening in his chest to subside and when he spotted the box on the bookshelf being used as a bookend, he didn't know what to think. Picking it up, he opened it and listened to the tune that started to play.

"Close that, I'm trying to sleep."

Bobby did as he was told and the pain in his chest didn't ease as he sat it back down. "I remember you collecting these as a kid."

"I liked them."

"Do you like this one," he asked as he turned around to face her.

She was lying in the bed and pulling the quilt tight around her tiny frame. "It's nice, but when was the last time I had to use one of those. They won't let us have jewelry."

"Still, it's decorative and you can listen to-"

"Could you please not fight with me about it right now?" she asked in growing frustration and impatience.

He watched as she turned away from him and settled. That was her signal to him that she was done talking, done with him and he could leave when he wanted. Breathing out, he shuffled his way over to the couch under the windows and collapsed. He hadn't slept in nearly thirty-five hours. The thoughts in his head were getting more unfocused and sporadic and just plain weird. It was hard to concentrate on speaking yet alone driving. He was going to have to get some sleep before he started the two hour drive home.

Lying down on the couch, he felt something dig into his side. Pulling out his cell phone and his shield, he laid those on the table before turning back onto his side and closing his eyes.

The ringing of the cell phone jarred him awake. Without opening his heavy eyes, he reached around for the phone and flipped it open. "Goren," he choked out before clearing his dry throat. "Goren," he said again, that time more clearly.

"Where are you?"

It was Alex. Prying his eyes open, he looked around the dark room and sat up with a start. "Wha time's it?" he asked as he grabbed his shield and stuffed it into his pocket as he headed for the door.

"Nearly eight. Are you still with your mom?"

"Yeah, I uh, I fell asleep on the couch. I'll, uh…" he muffled a yawn before telling her, "I'm on my way. Are you at my place or yours?"

"Currently I'm at yours…ours, but I'm about to head over to my apartment again."

Bobby pushed open the front door to the facility and was struck by the cold air that hit him. If he wasn't awake before he was now. Holy shit was it cold! Heading to the car, he said, "Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can. Want me to pick up dinner or anything?"

"That'll be great. I've been too busy to cook anything or even think about eating." She was quiet for a moment before asking, "How is she?"

Bobby pulled out his keys as he thought about what to tell her. "The same, I guess. She's…doing okay."

"Be careful on the drive back, you sound out of it."

Smiling into the phone at her concern for him, he told her, "Don't worry. I'll call when I stop to pick up food. It might take me a little longer since I won't be driving my usual speed back."

"Thank God. Your usual speed is a hundred."

"I'll only do eighty," he said and then chuckled at her groan.

"Goren," she warned.

"Alright, alright, I'll take it slow. See you soon."

"Not soon enough," she teased before telling him, "Love you."

Bobby's throat tightened as he put the keys in the ignition as he closed his eyes at hearing that. It was exactly what he needed to hear from her. "You too."

After hanging up, he sat in the car and let it warm up as he tried not to think too much about his mother and his exhaustion and Alex's love for him. It didn't work; they were all he thought about the entire drive back to Brooklyn and then over to Rockaway.

As soon as he unlocked the door and stepped inside he heard Polly's happy chirper. He hung up his overcoat as he looked around the open rooms. The apartment was in chaos and he didn't see Alex anywhere. There were piles everywhere, random boxes with books scooted against the walls, and pictures wrapped in newspaper laying over the tables. Bobby took a glance in the kitchen and saw bags of trash ready to go outside along with recycling tubs packed full. Dishes, cookware, and appliances where set into different piles and some were marked with colored markers and he didn't know why. That was until he saw the 'color chart' hanging on the refrigerator. The ones marked with black were going to be sold, blue were for family, and red was what she was taking with her to his place.

Bobby noticed only a few things in red, one of which was the cappuccino maker he had gotten her. Opening the fridge he was taken back to see that it was nearly empty except for takeout and bottles of water and a few bottles of beer. He grabbed two with his free hand and headed for the bedroom.

As he walked into the bedroom, he said out load, "Alex your apartment is a disaster zone." He still didn't see her anywhere as he sat the beer and bags with the Chinese takeout on the dresser. Looking around the bedroom, he took in the clothes that were laid out on the bed in separate piles as he started for the bathroom when he heard a sound coming from the closet. Cautiously going up to the door, he eased it open and there she was.

Alex was sitting on the floor, a box was open by her side, and in her hands was the photo that she kept of her and Joe that was supposed to be on her dresser. Tears were streaming mascara down her face. When she looked up, he felt suddenly weak and the pain that shot through his heart took his breath away. "Hey," she softly said as she went to wipe the tears away.

Bobby felt his lungs start to ache so he took a breath and repeated, "Hey." Moving into the closet that was a lot smaller than his own, he sat on the floor next to her and looked more closely at the photo in the frame. It was a picture from her and Joe's wedding day and she looked absolutely stunning, and incredibly happy. Taking it from her, he said, "This is something," turning to her, he finished, "that you keep out of the box."

She seemed a little stunned as she continued to wipe her eyes. Looking at the picture and then at him, she asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I know how much you love it, and I can see why…" he smiled at her and pulled her to him. Giving her a kiss, he told her, "We'll put it in the bedroom, okay?"

Alex still didn't look like she believed him. "You're going to be okay with that picture in our bedroom?"

"Yes," he told her as he put the frame down so he could move the hair out of her face and cup her cheek. Tilting her head up he said, "I want you to be happy living with me, and if having that picture, and whatever else you want that Joe gave you or that reminds you of him is going to help do that, then…Then I'm okay with it."

She was holding back more tears as she gave him a nod before pulling him down for a kiss, and then another. "Thank you, you didn't have to do that…I would've understood if it made you uncomfortable."

"What would make me uncomfortable is seeing you like this every morning because you had to pack it away, or me making you pack it away and knowing I caused you to be like this."

Smiling a little, she said, "You really don't like to see me cry, do you?"

"No man likes to see his woman cry, not any good man anyway. You okay?"

"Now I am. I've missed you today. My sisters were driving me crazy and Liv ended up having to back out because of a case." Alex looked up and around the closet before letting out a deep breath. "I think I'm done in here for now. And I'm smelling fried rice and egg rolls."

Bobby stood and helped her to her feet as they left the closet. Getting the food out of the bags, and grabbing the beer bottles, he went over to the bed where she was sitting and handing her a carton and bottle before going around the bed to get into bed next to her. Resting against the headboard, he kicked off his shoes and leaned back. "It looks like a tornado whipped through here."

Alex chuckled and nodded. "Two did, and their names were Amy and Amber. The twins tried to help but they ended up throwing stuff around."

He watched as she went back eating and that was when he realized that she wasn't drinking. "I can get you something else to drink," he said, motioning to the untouched beer bottle on the nightstand.

Alex handed him the bottle. "There's Mountain Dew in the fridge, bottom drawer."

He finished off his beer and took it with him to the kitchen. Getting her a can of the soda out of the fridge, he threw his empty bottle away before heading back to the bedroom.

After a few long minutes of eating and no talking, she asked, "Why do you really want me to live with you? I know what you said this morning, but there's more to it than that."

Bobby swallow half of the second beer down his throat as he looked over at her. He was unsure of why she asked that. Why she suddenly needed to get a confirmation from him to why he wanted her to live with him, but he figured it had something to do with her not thinking he cared. Deciding to lay it all out there, he said, "I don't, I don't do too well…without you." Breathing out, he dropped his head in shame as he started moving food around in the carton with his chopsticks. "And…and I don't like being alone anymore. I'm not better off that way." Glancing over at her, he saw the look in her eyes and the shame he had been feeling seemed to disappear.

"Was that so hard to admit?"

Smiling softly, he said, "The hardest, actually." He continued eating while he looked around the cluttered bed and bedroom. "So, what's the game plan?"

Alex shrugged a little as she told him, "There's not much of one yet. The only things I'm certain of are the things that have to go to your place. Like my clothes, books, family photos, the TV-"

"I've got a TV," he interrupted as he looked over at her.

"But not in the bedroom."

Bobby narrowed his eyes slightly before saying, "It's that way for a reason."

She looked over at him like he was missing some big piece of evidence before telling him. "You didn't have a reason before, but you got one now: me." At the look on his face, she said, "Okay, what if you're playing video games in the living room and I want to watch a movie? Or, if my nieces and nephew are over. You're going to need another TV now, and I'm putting the one that's out in my living room in your bedroom."

He had stopped listening at the words 'nieces' and 'nephew' before he realized that now his apartment would be where she would have them come to stay the night, or weekends. That his place was now going to be where Alex would have her family parties at instead of the apartment they were in at the moment.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, I'm, uh…I'm…processing," he picked up the bottle of beer and downed most of it.

Alex was trying not to show her amusement, but that didn't stop her from teasing him. "Oh, come on, don't tell me that it just now occurred to you that they'll be coming over to your place?"

"It did…and-" he stopped then looked her in the eyes as he asked, "The reason you want to be moved in by New Year's Eve isn't because you want to have a party there, is it?"

Alex went to speak but thought better of it as she gave him that look. "Well…"

"No, Alex," he protested as he sat his food carton down and turned to her. "You can't just spring this on me. And Lewis is getting married New Year's Eve."

"He's getting married at four in the afternoon. Our party is starting at nine."

Bobby stared down at her and knew that there was nothing he could say to make her not have the party. He moaned a little in defeat and leaned into her, burying his face in her neck. "I'm not going to like this."

Alex laughed at him. "Poor, baby, going to have to be a good boy in front of my family once again."

"You're killing me," he mumbled into her neck before giving her a kiss on it.

"Stop being so melodramatic," she told him as she nudged him in the ribs.

"Ow." Bobby felt her laugh again before scooting further down on the bed so he could lay down. That was a bad idea. The moment he was on his back he felt the exhaustion he had felt earlier pressing down on him. Rolling over, he wrapped his arms around Alex's waist and laid his head in her lap as he closed his eyes. He felt her hand run through his hair and he relaxed even more from the soothing touch.

"Are you going to fall asleep on me?" she asked as she started to massage his neck.

"Mmm, maybe…I'm exhausted." As he spoke he could feel his body ease and grow heavy.

"You must be to sleep in your suit and not care."

Bobby had a brief thought of getting up and stripping down before he mumbled softly, "At least my shoes are off." The weight was getting heavier and his head was getting lighter and before he could do anything else he was asleep.

He barely remembered being jarred awake by Alex moving out from under him before she was back again, and he once again settled in his sleep with her in his arms. The darkness of his heavy sleep was then disrupted as he felt a familiar vibration against his hip. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out the cell phone, flipped it open, and then slurred softly into the phone, "'Is better be important."

"Detective Goren," a soft female voice spoke to him.

Confusion gripped his tired mind as he sat up in bed and looked at the clock. It was one thirty in the morning and some unknown woman was calling him. "Uh, yeah, this's Detective Goren. Who…"

"It's Lindsey Broyles."

Bobby was up out of bed before he realized that he was even moving. "Lindsey, yeah, I, uh, I want to talk to you. Are you in Coney Island?"

"No…I…I need your help," she told him and that was when he heard the noises in the background.

As he found his shoes and slipped them on, he asked, "Where are you?"

TBC…


	26. Someone to be admired

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Keep 'em coming!

Enjoy!

* * *

He didn't think that he would ever be back to this place; standing in the cold night air and raising his gloved fisted hand to the 'door' and pounding on it as hard as he could to be heard. Looking around, he took in the barely lit parking lot and hoped that he would see it again. The door moved and he heard the voice before he saw the man's face.

"You better have your ID, pal; if you don't-"

"Big you need to get new material, man. I've heard the ID speech about a hundred times now."

Big went quiet before he eyed him through the door. "You alone?"

Bobby wasn't sure if he should answer him honestly or not; so he answered as vaguely as he could, "Does it matter? C'mon, let me in."

"Why should I? The last time you were here, you caused yourself a lot of trouble."

"I promise, if I cause trouble tonight, I give you permission to throw me out." Bobby actually hoped that Big would get a chance to throw him out if there was trouble. He would rather get banned from the bar instead of never leaving it alive.

The smirk that suddenly appeared on Big's face was anything but amusing. Pushing the door open, he allowed him entrance. The moment he stepped inside the door was pulled close and he was aware of the fact that the bar was nearly empty but that wasn't unusual for a Sunday night. Before he had a chance to move any further he heard a voice that froze him to his core.

"So…you made it."

Bobby looked to his immediate right and sitting at the table closest to the wall was the man he had come to see, along with the woman that called him. He slowly walked over to the table, never taking his eyes off the man, and then stopped in front of it. Standing off to Paul Savoie's side was the bodyguard Steve, and sitting next to him in the booth was Lindsey.

His eyes flickered over her as he pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pockets. She looked terrified and if the bruises on her face were any indication, she had every right to be. He wanted to show her the concern that was pulsing through him, but he had to tread carefully and play it right or else nothing would be okay from here on out for either of them. Turning his attention back to Savoie, he asked, "Mind if I sit?"

Savoie was watching him closely through a pair of tinted glasses that he remembered being fashionable when he was a kid. Without taking his eyes off him, he said, "Steve-o, check him out."

Bobby tensed as the man walked over to him and went to pat him down when he caught his wrist and twisted it back. "That isn't necessary," he growled as he shoved the guy away. Then before anyone could reacted, he pulled his coat aside and revealed his holstered weapon, along with his detectives shield. Neither man, Savoie or Steve made a move to take it from him before he dropped his coat back. "I may be carrying, but I have no intention of pulling my weapon…unless you give me a reason," he said that last part right to Savoie as he fixed him with a cold stare of his own.

The mob boss eyed him for a long moment before gesturing to the chair in front of him, telling him, "Have a seat."

It seemed like every move he made was in slow motion as he grabbed the chair and pulled it out so he could sit down. Bobby didn't bother trying to get comfortable as he sat and took the moment to look once again to Lindsey and then Steve before returning his full attention on the man sitting in the booth across from him.

Savoie also kept his eyes on him as he spoke. "Get us some drinks," he said to no one specific but he was surprised when Lindsey stood wordlessly and did as he ordered.

Before she passed him, she asked, "What would you like?"

Looking up into her eyes, he knew she was trying hard to act stoic, to not be afraid, but her eyes weren't able to hide her fear. Softly, Bobby told her, "Scotch…dry." She gave him a weak smile before walking toward the bar.

Bobby couldn't help but look after he as she went before turning back to Savoie. The small smirk he saw twisting the man's lips up twisted his stomach. This was a man that he was certain was a sadist murderer/rapist and who was also a very dangerous mob boss, and he was going to have to sit across from him and act civil with the man. Carry on a conversation, have a drink, and all the while breaking so many rules he had as a cop that he hoped by the time he left there that night he hadn't lost himself completely.

His drink was placed in front of him. Glancing up at Lindsey, he waited until she sat Savoie's drink on the table before he took a hold of his, and after he took a whiff of the drink, took a very small sip. It smelt all right to him, but that didn't mean anything. There were plenty of poisons and drugs that didn't leave a smell, especially when mixed with drinks.

"So, tell me…Bob-bee, why did was this…" Savoie looked pointedly at Lindsey as he said, "slut, call you all the way, out here?"

The man had a worse time talking than he did. Bobby shifted in his seat as he looked to Lindsey briefly, just to gauge her reaction, before addressing Savoie, "She said, she needed my help."

Savoie didn't ask it, but he could see the question in his dull, stoic eyes.

Bobby didn't know what kind of excuse Lindsey had given the mob boss when he had caught her in the bathroom on the cell phone after she told him where she was. To his survival, he hoped she didn't tell him much, or anything, and Savoie wouldn't be dumb enough to offer up an excuse for his to take. So, he had to come up with his own plan on the way to the bar. He just hoped that it would work.

Reaching into his inside coat pocket, he took hold of the plastic bag and looked to Lindsey as he pulled it out and tossed it on the table in front of her. Her eyes went wide before she stared shockingly at him.

Bobby gestured to the bag and then looked at Savoie. "Like I said, she needed my help," he told him before rubbing at his nose and wincing a little at the movement, as if it caused him a slight pain.

Savoie looked to Lindsey and snapped his fingers at her. "Give it…to me, now."

Lindsey hesitated, glancing to him, before putting her purse on her lap and getting out the nearly empty baggie she had and handing it to Savoie.

Bobby nearly let out a breath of relief at seeing that she only had enough cocaine left for one more hit. He had taken a gamble with bringing the drugs and so far it seemed like it was working. God, he needed a smoke. He had bought a new pack on his drive to Staten Island and emptied about half the cigarettes out of it before pocketing it. Everything was about perception when trying to sell a lie.

Pulling out the pack, he tapped one out and went to light it when Steve told him, "There's no smoking in here."

Bobby glared up at the bodyguard, but took the cigarette out of his mouth but kept it between his fingers. He pocketed the lighter as he returned his attention back to Savoie.

The mob boss was still watching him as he fingered the bag of coke in his hand. "I saw you, the other night."

It took him a moment to acknowledge what that meant. He knew the second it was said what it meant, but he didn't want to give his alertness away. "You mean…Coney Island?"

"Don't play dumb, 'tective," Savoie told him, suddenly sounding very annoyed. "You paid a brick, for her."

Bobby looked to Lindsey as he said, "Two, actually."

"She worth that much…is she?"

Blinking back, he shifted his eyes to Savoie as he told him, "You tell me. You've paid a thousand every time you get her." He paused for a brief moment before saying, "Why take her back at all?"

That got him the reaction he was looking for. Startled confirmation. It seemed that Paulie Savoie wasn't Mr. Robot after all. The man still had his tells. The smile took him by surprise after that stunned look slipped from his nearly impossible still face.

Then, Savoie asked, "What's she worth, 'tective?"

Bobby wasn't expecting that. It seemed that his performance was coming down to this moment. He had come to help Lindsey, but also to get a better feel of Savoie. To confirm that he was killer he was after, and then what was he going to do about it. What could he do about it? What could he say to this man that wouldn't get him killed? "Let's go outside."

Savoie didn't answer him for a long moment. "O-kay. Steve-o, check the lot."

Steve did as he was told and pushed open the door. Looking out, he said, "We got company."

"Who?"

"I don't know who, but there's at least three of them."

There was a hesitation, a moment of uncertainty that passed over the mob bosses face before he got up and gestured to the door. "After you."

Bobby got up, finished off his drink, and then started for the door. "Lindsey's coming with me," he told Savoie as he motioned with his hand for her to follow him out. To his surprise, she was able to actually do it without protest.

The cold night air hit him all over again as he stepped out of the bar and into the parking lot. Directly in front of him, between him and his car, was Stapleton. Turning around, he waited for Lindsey to be next to him; she was dressed in only a black dress and pearls so he took his overcoat off and draped it over her shoulders before walking a little closer to Savoie. He wanted what was said between them to stay between them.

Savoie motioned for Steve to stay back as well as he ventured closer to him. Neither man took their eyes off each other as they stepped closer to one another.

Bobby was highly aware to the fact that he had three of narcotics detectives, Stapleton, Jules, and Young, having his back. That helped to give him the courage he needed to confront Savoie, but what he was about to confront him about would have shocked not only himself, but Logan had he been there. "I know what you've been doing," he softly said.

Savoie only gave a slight nod, realizing that this was only going to be between them.

"I can cause you a lot of trouble, but…I know that if I start causing you trouble, you'll return the favor, right? I don't want that, and you definitely don't want that."

That made that humorless smile come back. "How's that?" Savoie asked.

Bobby returned the smiled, but his held more of a warning. "Because, if you continue on the way you are, and nothing comes from it…It'll be out of my hands, and into the hands of the FBI. These types of-of, um…of activities, that you're divulging in, they don't go unnoticed by the bureau for long. If I'm unable to-to, uh, to do my job, they'll have no problem doing it for me. Understood?"

He could tell that Savoie had started to take an interest, and actually listen to what he was saying, even since he brought up the FBI. Savoie seemed to be considering what was said before he gave another nod.

"Don't get me wrong here, Savoie. I could careless about you. In fact, what you're doing makes me sick. What I care about is myself, because you fail at protecting yourself. You let yourself get caught. Lucky for you, it was by me, because I'm a man who can look the other way, whose silence…can be had."

"How much?" Savoie suddenly asked. His desperation could be hidden any longer, and for a brief moment, Bobby thought he caught a glimpse of the man Savoie was trying to hid behind those emotionless dark eyes. He was a man so out of control, it was frightening.

"Actually, I have a payment for you. All I'm asking for is my life," he told him as he finally stuck the cigarette he'd been holding in his hand into his mouth and lit it.

That stunned the mob boss as the glared at him. "You, pay me?"

Bobby gave a nod. "For her," he said as he looked over his shoulder to Lindsey. Bowing out a huff of smoke, he turned back to Savoie, saying, "for my silence…I don't know…Five grand. What'd you say?"

Bobby continued to stare into the dark eyes of Paul Savoie, and waited.

An hour later, Bobby walked into the 128th Precinct with three Narco cops following him in. Jules and Young slip off and headed to the locker room while Stapleton stayed with him. His hands were still slightly shaking but at least he was alive, and so was Lindsey Broyles after he paid five thousand for her. At the moment, Lindsey was on the ferry on her way back to Coney Island and hopefully from there out of the state if she knew what was best.

He had no idea how long Savoie could hold himself to his end of the 'deal'. Serial killers worked on impulses and Savoie was a very powerful serial killer. He could very well say fuck it and take him out along with everyone else and go to war with the FBI. Or, something less dramatic than that scenario.

Heading up the steps, he stopped on the second floor and held out his hand. "Thanks again. You didn't have to do that."

Stapleton shook his hand and gave him a slap on the shoulder. "You're a brother in blue, we look out for one another. Besides, having a chance to get in good with that crazy lunatic is just the icing on the proverbial cake."

That was the lie he had told Stapleton. That the 'meeting' he had with Savoie was to solidify a deal in going into business with the mob boss. He was afraid that the Narc would either call his bluff or call him crazy. Stapleton did call him crazy, but he had also jumped on the opportunity to getting in good with the mob boss. He said the man had more connections in higher places than the Pope, whatever that meant.

Bringing in Stapleton had come at a cost though, and after he ushered Lindsey onto the ferry and then returned to his car. The narcotics detective was there waiting for him. The favor was to be returned, he had told him. And in a few days, he was invited to a takedown that couldn't refuse.

Stapleton smiled at him before asking him, "Say, Bobby, we've got a basketball game tomorrow, wanna come?"

He hesitated for a moment and that gave Stapleton time to elaborate.

"It's just I heard how good you were from Jackson and Rivers. How you took it to your old squad. Our department's playing them tomorrow night, and we could use the extra player. Jules is good at the job, but he can't hit a free throw to save his life."

Bobby gave a nod and a slight smile. "Sure…why not." Except for the fact that he really didn't want to, but at the moment, he owed that man more than his time on the court, but his life.

"Alright, Mister Insanity, be at the NYC Gym by six."

Mister Insanity had been what Stapleton had called him after he had successfully not gotten himself killed by Paul Savoie. Bobby watched him walk away, going to part of the building that housed the Narcotics Squad, before going up one more flight of steps and walking into his own squad.

It was going on four in the morning and he was exhausted. The homicide department was scarce, and he was the only one walking in that early in the morning. Going straight to the break room for a much needed cup of coffee, he wasn't prepared for the flood of anger and emotions that suddenly tensed his shoulders and balled his fists. He needed to calm down, and to cool down as he felt the heat radiating off himself.

Opening the freezer, he let the cold settle over his heated face as he tried to calm his racing pulse. Then, he felt it, the snap of his temper as he slammed the door shut then pulled it open only to slam it close again, and again. He slammed it close one last time before hitting it with a balled fist a second before he slumped against it and breathed heavily out of his quivering body.

"A punching bag is easier on the knuckles."

Bobby opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to Gonzales as he walked into the break room. Straightening, he mumbled, "I'll get outta your way," as he started for the entryway only to stop himself. Turning back to Gonzales, he asked, "What're you doing right now?"

"Paperwork," he told him as he refilled a cup with coffee. "I got called in early for a suicide. Why?"

"Want to help me with something? It's about one of your old cases, actually. Michelle Costello?"

"The murdered prostitute…the one you think's connected to a serial killer?" When he nodded, Gonzales smiled broadly as he said, "Count me in. What'd you want to know?"

"Everything," he simply told him as he walked over to the counter to get himself that much needed cup of coffee.

* * *

Shivering her ass off in Central Park was not something she wanted to be doing at seven o'clock in the morning, but she didn't get to have a say about when preps were allowed to commit crimes, or in this case, murder. What made it worse was waking up alone in her bed just an hour earlier and knowing that Bobby had been long gone before then. She remembered vaguely a phone call very early last night, around one and him nearly jumping out of bed and leaving her to have to fight the cold off herself. She also remember the name of the caller: Lindsey, and that he had wanted to talk to her. Not knowing about the exact cases he was working, she wasn't sure who this Lindsey person was but she sounded highly important to Bobby for him to leave at one in the morning, with little sleep, to go to her.

It wasn't jealously that was making her nervous, or anxious, as she waited for Copeland to finish his 'examination' of the woman who had been shot multiple times and left for dead alongside the pathway that lead around the park. No, that wasn't it. What had her stomach turning in knots was the fact that this morning as she was getting ready for work she realized something. A big something. A terrifying recognition that she should have picked up on days before…four days before, to be exact.

That something was this: she was late. Four, five if she counted that day, late. She was sure that she had noticed it before this morning, like when she was one day late, but she had remembered how weeks before, right before her and Bobby had gotten back together, that she had an appointment with her OB/GYN. Maggie, Dr. Barnes…she called her Maggie, had recommended that she change her birth control pill. She agreed…Now, she realized, that she was an idiot. Changing her pill, and then letting Bobby have sex with her shortly after, a few days after if she remembered correctly, wasn't the best decision on her part.

Anyway, she had at first, five days ago, just figured that because of the changing of the pill, her body was still adjusting and it would take a few extra days for things to go back to normal. That still could be the case, but that was just one possibility. Another possibility was that she was currently impregnated by her emotionally immature, and afraid of family and commitment boyfriend. All because he had shown up on her doorstep looking like a lost puppy and finally, finally!, letting his guard down to her that she was now freaking the fuck out over the possibility of carrying his child. What made it worse was that she was terrified of his response when she tells him. The bastard; if he wasn't so damn afraid all the time she wouldn't have to this afraid over just the thought of this. Of motherhood and his fatherhood….

Shit, and now Copeland was looking at her all weird. Like he wanted to ask her what was wrong. Why she was suddenly so quiet and why she hadn't made some sarcastic comment yet about why it looked like he'd been clubbin' all night long. Oh, she would let him sweat about that for a while before she made him go red from embarrassed over that one. As long as he wasn't hung over and could do his job she really didn't care. He was young and could actually party all night long and be go to go the next day, unlike her. She'd be half dead and ready to collapse if that was her.

"Are you okay?"

Great. Copeland was looking down at her with concern as he handed her a cup of strong, sugar-filled coffee. She held the takeout cup with both hands and took a sip while she tried to think of something to say to the guy to dash his concern. "Better than you. What'd you do last night, hit up the club with 50 Cent?"

Harry actually smiled at that but she could tell that she nailed it by the way he briefly looked away. "Funny. Now, can we focus on the case at hand?"

"I am focusing. Twenty-six year old female, shot twice while walking to her job as a paralegal at the law office of Hynes and Gordon on 3rd Ave. Hence why we've been called out here. From what Deakins said, and from what I confirmed from her PDA a few minutes ago, she had been working on the retrial of rapist, Darryl Ramsey, who's been claiming for ten years that he was falsely accused. Did I miss anything?" she smartly asked and with a breath of air, tried to blow her hair out of her eyes.

"No," Harry quietly said as he shook his head. "Except…it wasn't with 50 Cent, but my girl Rita."

"Rita…Rita…" she frowned as she tried to place the first name with a last one. "Rita….Wait, not Rita James from Missing Persons?"

Smiling slightly, he told her, "It's okay that we work in the same building, right?"

Alex shook her head and then started for the SUV. "It's better than the same squad, or your partner. Well worth it though if it's true love."

"Are you and Goren true lovers?"

She didn't answer him as she rounded the SUV and pulled the door open. As she slid into the driver seat, she was confronted again about her possible pregnancy and what Bobby would do, or say. Alex knew a lot about Bobby, not everything yet, but a lot. She knew he would be scared, and stunned. He would question everything, even himself, and he would quite possibly hide from her for a while. Not physically, but he would need time to come to terms if it was confirmed that she was, in fact, growing a kid inside of her at the moment. However, he wouldn't run. He wouldn't neglect his responsibilities and there was no way he would leave her.

Years ago, when she asked him about his views on pregnancy, abortion to be exact, and after forcing him to give a better answer than his typical guy answer, he had surprised her with the amount of thought he had put into it. He had, after a moments consideration, told her that life was full of uncertainty and that there needed to be options. She wondered how many options would be considered in his head if confronted with one of those uncertainties in life.

"Eames?"

Alex realized that she hadn't said anything to Copeland in what seemed like hours. She was gripping the steering wheel and staring out the windshield with the heat from the truck blowing in her face. Looking over, she softly told Harry, "I guess it depends on what your definition of true love is."

Unlike Bobby, Copeland didn't fix her with his dark brown eyes and silently tell her she had to do better. That he wanted, and needed, to know more than that vague answer that wasn't even an answer at all. Instead, he only gave a nod and then turned his attention to his cell phone. That guy would be lost without that thing in his hand. Pulling out into traffic and heading toward the law office of Hynes and Gordon, she thought that the discussion was dropped.

"Well," Harry suddenly said, not looking up from his phone, "I think true love is being able to get through the trials of life together. No matter how hard it gets, no matter how hopeless is all seems, when you see that person, the one you gave your heart to, and you know that as long as they're with you…it'll be okay. That together, you can get through anything."

Alex stopped at a light and looked skeptically at the man sitting beside her. Reaching out, she snatched the phone out of his hand and looked at what was displayed on the screen. Tossing it back to him after his feeble attempt at protesting, she laughed, "Nice try, but the next time you want to have a heart-to-heart with me, memorize the lines first. Who wrote that?"

"I don't know, but it sounded good."

Shaking her head at him, she continued the short drive to 3rd Avenue. As she drove, she couldn't help but think of the words Copeland had spoken to her. They weren't his own words, but that didn't mean that they weren't his thoughts. That they also weren't her thoughts because the more she thought about them the more she felt that they were true. Her truth as to what she felt and thought true love to be.

It wasn't a fairy tale love; those weren't real, and quite frankly, they made her nauseous. Having a love like that, one that held no trials and errors and some pain meant that a lot of truths were being ignored. At least that was from her experience. It meant living in denial and giving up yourself for the other person, or of not being yourself in a relationship. She had known women like that, and before, she had been the same way. Relationships she had had when she was younger, before she really knew and understood what it meant to be in love, she had hid herself. She would try to be whatever it was that the guy she was with wanted. It wasn't what she wanted, what pleased her, but what pleased and made them happy.

That was never a good thing in a relationship. Then she had gotten older, met Joe, and realized that in order to be truly happy in a relationship, to be someone's partner, lover, and wife, that she had to be herself and be happy within her own skin, soul, heart, and mind. With Joe she had went through the process of it all; learning just who she was when she was alone, and with being married to a narcotics detective being left alone was in the wedding vows. She also had to learn who she was when she was with him, and how to be satisfied with what it was that made her the woman that he loved and admired. After Joe died, it was like she had lost a part of herself and she had to find out who she was after him.

It was hard, and it took a lot of time. The pain that caused still lingered, and she knew it always would. However, she knew that it was important for her to figure out a way to live without her husband in her life. She had always believed that being in a relationship, and being in one where both people were deeply in love with each other, that they became half of each other. That together they made a whole. They were one.

Bobby didn't think that way. To him they were 'separately united', as he put it to her one night over a year ago when she had brought the concept up to him. Bobby believed that one and one made two; there was no such thing as being the half of another person, of another soul. Leave it to Bobby to not believe in soul mates as well. It didn't matter to her what he thought, as long as they could co-exist, as long as they loved each other, respected each other, and trusted one another, then that was all that mattered.

They were different. They had conflicting thoughts and opinions, but that was what made it a real relationship, something that could be considered by her to be a true love. Despite the things that made them different, they were willing to accept those differences and grow together. He had told that Nelda Carlson woman that they had complementary skills; they balanced each other out. And right there was the truth in what they were to one another.

Bobby was the idiot, she told herself as she parked the SUV and got out. They _were _each others other half. They completed each other. Maybe she shouldn't be as afraid as she was to realize that she was four…five, days late.

Harry went to hold the door to the office building for her and as she walked by him, she said, "He's the yin to my yang."

That stilled Copeland for a moment before he smiled wide at her. "Been thinking about that the whole time?"

"You don't know the half of what I've been thinking about. Ready for this? Turn your lifeline off?"

Harry looked away again, but pulled out his cell and put it on silent. "Okay, let's do it."

After the meeting with both lawyers, Richard Hynes and Josh Gordon, Alex had dropped Copeland off at One Police Plaza. When he asked what she was up to, she had told him that she had an early appointment with Dr. Olivet. As she started to drive, she bypassed the street that would take her to the psychiatrist's office and instead headed toward Brooklyn. From Brooklyn she hit the bridge that would take her over the bay and into Staten Island. If Bobby found out what she was planning he would intercept her on the way and tie her down to keep her from going through with it. She had, in a way, promised him that she wouldn't get involved.

He should have known that she wouldn't leave it alone. She had one final option, and if he shut the door on her then, and only then, would she accept that there was nothing she could do. She was trying to help, and protect, Bobby after all. It was her justification as to why she ignored the warnings, Bobby's warning, to leave it alone.

Before she knew it, she was finding a parking spot to the department building that housed the Staten Island Internal Affairs Bureau and headed into the building on a mission to kick the IA officers ass who had dragged her boyfriend into this dangerous operation. Into an operation that according to Bobby, 'scared' him. Bobby wasn't afraid of anything, or one. For a long time, at the beginning of their partnership, she had thought that Bobby had no fear. It was one of the many things that had lead her to believe he was an anti-social lunatic, and nearly to the point of abandoning him as a partner.

That thought and knowing what that decision, had she gone through with it, could have cost her still sent a shiver down her spine. Bobby still didn't know about that. He had no idea that his girlfriend and once loyal partner had considered, and put in the paperwork, to get a different partner. That she didn't want to handle him. She didn't want to deal him, understand him, and she didn't want to take the time to get to know him. She was lucky, deeply grateful, to have changed her mind. Bobby had helped her to change it when he finally let her in. When he had actually taken the time to explain something to her instead of leaving her in the dark.

Knocking on the door, she didn't give the man time to answer before she pushed the door open and strolled in.

To say that Pat Garrison was startled to see her was an understatement; the man was in shock and possibly suffering a heart attack. "What…Detective Eames-"

"Well, it's good that now we both know each other."

"How?" he asked in shock.

"You suck at surveillance. I got your license number and your photo when you were on stakeout in front of Ray's house," she told him as she pulled out the photos from inside her overcoat and tossed them on his desk.

Garrison eyed the photos and then shook his head. "Goren was wrong about you, you are persistent."

"You have no idea," she coldly told him as she leveled him with her eyes.

He looked up at her and finally, after coming to terms that she was there and not going to leave easily, asked, "And what can I help you with, Detective?"

She wanted to laugh at the mockingly pleasantries but instead, Alex sat down and leaning back, she told him, "I want in."

Garrison did laugh. "You're serious."

"Do I look like I'm not. Besides, you need me in. I know about the undercover operation now. Bobby is going to need help, who better than me.'

"He has help, and I greatly disagree." Garrison leaned on his desk and fixed her with a stare of his own. "You want to help him?"

Alex gave a nod.

"Good. Leave him."

She sat stunned for a long moment before laughing and shaking her head. "No, see…that isn't going to happen. I'll never leave Bobby, especially now."

"I think you should consider it. Because the deeper this goes, the more danger he's going to be in. The more danger you're going to be in. Right now, Detective, you're a huge distraction to him. A blind spot, should we say. The closer you get to him, the harder it is for him to perform his job properly. Until the operation is over, then afterwards, you could live with him for all I care."

As he said that, Alex realized that Bobby hadn't told him that they were in the process of living together. She wondered if he was going to even let the IA officer know but she choose not to. Instead, she leaned on the desk as well, "You're wrong. If I leave him, especially now, he'll break and he just might say screw you and to hell with the operation. I'm keeping him going. Knowing that I have his back, and his determination to get back to me, and Major Case, is what's keeping him going. You're making a mistake not letting me in on this."

Garrison looked like he'd been kicked off his high horse at that, but he was stern in saying, "We're done here, Detective."

Alex didn't want to, but she knew that there was nothing else she could say. Nothing else she could do, except hope that Garrison took her words into consideration and changed his mind.

She left the building and as she headed to the SUV, she caught sight of a familiar man, a detective, as he exited a building across the street. Before he got into the awaiting car, he looking in her direction. She didn't know if he saw, or recognized her, but she was suddenly aware that if he did this could mean only one thing. Trouble.

Pulling out her keys, she continued to watch as the car that held a driver and Detective Rivers pulled away and headed down the street.

* * *

Pushing the backdoor open with his body he hurried into the kitchen and sat the takeout bags onto the table before they dropped. His binder went on the table next right along with his keys and then his gun. He'd been running around all day with Gonzales tracking information down on Michelle Costello. Unable to get back to the Staten Island, he was still in possession of everything he had left with. Taking a deep breath he was struck by the overwhelming heat that started to suffocate him. It felt like it was a hundred degrees in the apartment. Alex must've had on both the central heat and radiator again.

Looking around, he spotted the boxes that were littered around the rooms. Some were still taped up, others were open with contents still in them while others were folded and placed into a pile between the refrigerator and wall. Alex had informed him when he called earlier that she was going to her apartment after work and bringing some boxes over, but he was startled with how many. It was going on nine o'clock so he figured she had plenty of time to get ten boxes packed in that amount of time.

He would have been home sooner but he had to do some work at the department before heading out with Gonzales, and then it had taken longer than he realized to locate Michelle's family and so-called friends. Then he had gotten into it with a Vice cop who thought he was a john and then when he found out he was a cop trying to get information, the twosome he was having with Gonzales had turned into a foursome as the Vice cop and his partner joined the search party.

"Alex, I got some takeout from Sal's," he called through the rooms as he unwrapped his scarf from around his neck before tugging off his coat. After laying them over the back of a chair, he started taking out the food containers from the bags. "I got your favorite."

Placing all the containers out on the kitchen table, he looked around and still didn't see her anywhere. Heading further into the apartment, he bypassed boxes as he went into the hall and then his bedroom. She had her stuff scattered everywhere at the moment yet he didn't mind it really. Turning the light on in the walk-in closet, he saw that it had been rearranged with their clothes separated on each side of the closet.

Unbuttoning his dress shirt, he pulled it off along with his jacket and put them into the hamper meant for dry-clean only. He quickly kicked off his shoes and took off his socks before changing out of his pants and into a pair of black jeans. Then he tugged off his t-shirt and tossed it into the other basket for him to wash. He was burning up from the heat. Going down the hall, he felt the hot steam coming out of the radiator and shook his head. It was cold out but it wasn't _that _cold. Reaching under it he turned it off and looked around for the woman that was slowly turning his place upside down and saw the light on under the bathroom door.

"Alex, baby, it's hotter than hell in here," he told her as he walked up to the bathroom door. Knocking softly, he told her, "I got dinner."

He heard her moving around behind the door before it opened. At seeing the look on her face, he nearly froze. Fear and panic gripped his heart as he urgently asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Alex didn't answer him as she continued to stare at him with her arms crossed over her chest. He could see the inner struggle in her and that worried him.

Bobby slowly reached out and took hold of her arms. There was a tremor running through them and he immediately knew whatever it was it was bad. "Is it your family?" he asked. "Did something happen?"

Alex quickly shook her head letting him know that it wasn't them.

That eased some of his worries; he didn't want to think of something horrible happening to one of her siblings or parents or the kids. Bobby was growing more confused and terrified as he nodded a little. "Then…Nothing happened at work did it? Captain Deakins-"

"Everyone's fine," she finally spoke but her voice was shaky.

Bobby's heart fell as there was only one other conclusion he could think of and it was what was igniting his intense fear. If it wasn't work or her family then…"What'd I do? Whatever I did…I'll, I'll try to fix it." As she continued to stare up into his eyes he saw that he was right; it was him. "If…if this is too soon, and you don't want to live with me-"

"Stop…It's not that," Alex silenced him with her plea before she took a breath and told him, "I…I might be…Bobby, I might be pregnant."

His heart stopped. It literally stopped, he felt the pause of his heart beat right before he stumbled back slightly and closed his eyes. _That_…He didn't know what to do or say to _that_. Bobby stood stunned as he tried to gather a single thought in his head that was suddenly pounding in his ears. He couldn't breathe and Alex had a look of fear on her own face. "Wh-what? How…" he cut himself off at that stupid question. He knew _how_, but…"What?"

Alex had yet to uncross her arms or even move as she continued to watch him. Suddenly she pulled her arms apart and that was when he saw the small box that she had been holding. "I'm waiting to find out now."

He stared at the box in her hands and realized what it was. It was a home pregnancy testing kit. Bobby shook his head, wiping the sweat away as he tried to comprehend what was going on. He didn't even know if he was still breathing but he had too because he hadn't passed out yet.

"Do you want to wait with me?"

Stepping back he felt his world tilt and spin as he closed his eyes once again. Still rubbing at his aching head he didn't think as he just reacted, saying, "I don't even want this to be happening…" Opening his eyes he saw the look in her eyes right before she turned and slammed the door in his face. _Fuck. _"Wait, I didn't…Alex!" he yelled as he banged on the door. "I didn't mean that. I'll wait with you."

"I don't want you to do something you don't want to do."

He rested his head against the door and sighed. Why did she have to be so difficult. He was in shock! "You caught me off guard. I wasn't-I wasn't expecting that."

"And I was!" she yelled through the door. "Stop trying to explain. Just, I can't have you in here with me right now."

Pushing his anger down he gave a nod as he told her through the door. "Okay. I'll, uh…I'll stay out here. How long be-,uh, before...?" he asked with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Five minutes."

_Five minutes_…Giving into the sudden flood of emotions that wanted to cripple him, Bobby felt his knees give as he slid down the door until he was sitting with his back to it. Closing his eyes, he willed his emotions away; for her he had to be strong, he had to be willing to accept and deal with any outcome. In five minutes they would know if they were going to be parents. He would know if he was going to be a father.

His body started to shake and he hated the fear that gripped his heart. What pained him most was the fact that he didn't know if it was fear of it being a yes or fear of it being no. Bobby didn't know if she was next to the door or not, but he turned his head to the side and asked, "What're you thinking?"

A thump against the door was indication that she was leaning against the other side of it. Maybe she was sitting exactly like him with her back against the same spot as his, and with her head tilted exactly where his was. Bobby reached out and touched the door as he tried to feel her through it, to keep the connection so she could help him. Right then, he needed help. The tears were there, itching at the back of his eyes and he was so afraid.

"What're you thinking?" she asked him right back instead of answering.

He barely heard her soft voice cut through his inner battle and turmoil. "I'm thinking," Bobby had to clear his throat when he heard how rough it sounded. "I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm scared, but, uh...no matter what it says…I'm not going anywhere."

She was silent on the other side of the door for a long moment. "I'm scared too."

With hearing that soft confession, Bobby broke. The tears slid down his face and he quickly reached up to wipe them away. Holding his head in his hands, he focused on controlling himself. He had to be strong he reminded himself. Alex needed him to be strong for her. Finally, as he got himself to breathe easier and the tears subsided, he wrapped his arms around his legs as he twisted his hands together as his mind began its assault.

His own father hadn't been much of one. All he knew, all that he learned from that man, was how to be completely indifferent to the word 'family' and everything that came along with it. The times when he had been a witness to his father's true, actual, emotions it had all been bad. All the anger, the manipulation, and the satisfaction his father got from humiliating and embarrassing him as not only a child but as an adult was still too real, too raw. It was embarrassing for him to know that even after all these years he still held the same spite and anger for his father that he's had since he was old enough to understand that William Goren wasn't someone to be admired.

But despite his anger and his vow to never be like his old man, he never had the courage to prove to himself that he was any better. He never wanted to have a child just to prove that he could love his child and prove his father wrong. To show everyone, including himself, that he was nothing like William. He had felt and thought for a long time that doing so would be in itself manipulation, and that the only reason he would have done it was to prove a point.

Then there was always the fear that he wasn't any better. His father was away a lot; either really working or away gambling, and he was never there for him when he had needed him the most. He himself was a workaholic, and that wouldn't change. And there was the fear that he would be just as indifferent and emotionally detached from his child as his father had been. He couldn't put a child through that.

Then, of course, there was his mother and all the fears that went along with her and her family history. With his own predisposition and to have that gene for mental illness passed along to his child…He closed his eyes and felt the tears battle against his will to fall once again. There were too many negatives; too many reasons for him not to be a parent and to not bring a child into the world that he surrounded himself with. For God's sake, he was currently undercover as a corrupt cop and chasing a serial killer/mobster that could very well end his life. Banging his head against the door, he stared up at the ceiling and continued the long wait.

Taking a look at his watch, the gold watch Alex had gotten him for Christmas, he saw that it had been the longest five minutes of his adult life. Breathing out, he asked, "Alex?" He waited for her to answer, to say anything as he felt his lungs tighten and burn.

The door handle moved and he straightened so not to fall as she opened the door. She didn't have to say anything. The moment he caught her eyes he knew. The sorrow was there, hidden behind her determination to remain strong. He knew she wasn't okay; that even though they had both told themselves and each other that it was for the best, she always held out hope.

"It's-"

"I know," he quickly told her in his strained soft voice. "C'mere."

Alex looked away from him, back into the bathroom. "Do you want to see-"

"Alex," he stressed her name, forcing her to look back down at him. "Shut the door and come here," he told her in a near whisper. Bobby could see it in every movement from her hesitant look to her slight breathing that she was holding back. That she was on the verge of collapse.

Staring down at him, she took a breath as she slowly closed the door. Alex leaned against it as she continued to stare into his eyes. The sorrow and the pain that was in her was getting harder for her to control. Holding his hand out, he beckoned her to take it. She looked from him to his hand and then something in her broke as she reached out. The moment he felt her hand in his he pulled her down. She folded herself onto his lap with her knees up to her chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he protectively held on as he felt her body shake.

His own body was shaking right along with hers. At seeing the dark anguish in the normally light loving eyes of the woman that had become the love of his life, he almost broke again; he almost gave into the emotions that were threatening to bury him. "I'm sorry."

Shaking her head into his chest, she told him, "Nothing to be sorry about. It's not like I lost anything."

He wanted to keep quiet. His silence had always been his best defense; if he just remained silent he could let it all pass by and hopefully they would be okay, but he knew that this wasn't something that they could just get pass. For five minutes they had to confront the possibility of their lives drastically changing forever. Bobby knew it had to be dealt with despite his desire to leave it alone.

Trying to ease the tension and the quivering he felt in her, he caressed over her back before running his hands along her arms and pushing her slightly away so he could tilt his head down and give her a kiss on her temple. "You did lose something," he whispered to her. "I think that, that maybe you're afraid to tell me what that is."

Alex looked up at him with the most perplexed expression. Running her hands up his bare chest, she encircled his neck as she said, "I knew I shouldn't have held out hope. I mean, God, I'm so conflicted with it myself. Sometimes I really want to be a mom but then…I keep telling myself I can't be a working mom. I can't. If I'm going to have a child I'll have to quit and I'm not ready to make that sacrifice. But then, I had to live with the knowledge that I could be pregnant and I thought…maybe I can do this," she stopped talking as she leaned back against him.

Bobby's eyes slid close as he took a deep breath to steady his emotions. Alex was breaking and he couldn't let himself fall right along with her. "Alex-" her name broke from his suddenly dry throat. Swallowing hard, he parted his eyes to look down at her. He went to speak again but she suddenly cut him off.

"What would you have done if it was positive?" She tilted her head up so she could look at him.

Staring into her dark eyes, he smiled a little as he honestly told her, "I would have hit the roof. Then, after I panicked, I think…No, I _know _that whatever you would have decided, I would've backed you up."

"You know what my decision would've been."

Bobby nodded slightly because it was getting harder to speak.

"While I was sitting in there, I was wondering if our relationship could've lasted with us being parents."

He was losing his battle. Shaking his head, his vision blurred slightly just before he shut his eyes. "It would've," clearing his throat, he told her, "…made it more challenging." His voice was getting worse; it was cracking and he could barely get his voice above a whisper. "I foresaw a lot of complications, a lot of changes that terrified me…Us arguing over just about everything…"

"And?"

"And…I don't know," he honestly told her. "Having a baby…a child, it changes everything. I don't think I'll _ever_ be…be, prepared, for that." He finally looked back down at her and saw the understanding along with the same fears that he held mirrored in her.

Alex ran her hand through his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. His heart was pounding against her chest as he gave himself to her in that kiss. He didn't want it to break; he felt like hiding for the rest of his life in that kiss. Pulling away, she gently asked, "What were you hoping for?"

Bobby didn't know what to say to that. So much rested on his answer to that weighed question. Gathering his courage, he told her, "I'm not sure what I wanted. I still don't."

Alex seemed to accept that as she gave a nod before resting back against his chest.

Pulling her tighter to him and hoping he hadn't ruined something, a sacred part of their love and trust that was keeping them together, Bobby closed his eyes and leaned his head against the door. With a air of defeat, he told her once again, "I'm sorry."

Once he found the strength to stand, he eased her up along with him before lifting her completely into his arms as he stood. Alex wrapped her arms around him while leaning her head against his shoulder. Carrying her into their bedroom, he laid her gently down on the bed and watched as she stared up at him. He couldn't make out the look, what she was feeling and what it meant for the both of them. She could have been in shock, or just emotionally drained, he knew that he was.

Moving a loose strand of hair off her face, he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the lips. "Want anything? Tea? Wine?"

Alex seemed to give that some thought before saying, "Tea sounds nice."

Before getting up, he gave her another kiss then stood and left the room. Out in the hallway, he took a few deep breaths as he ventured into the kitchen. Reminding himself to hold it together, to stay strong, he put the food containers in the refrigerator because he had lost his appetite and Alex didn't seem to be in the mood to eat either. Searching the cabinets, he pulled down the bottle of Glenlivet. Filling a glass he sipped at it as he went through the task of making her tea.

At spotting Alex's tea kettle on his stove, he paused and stared at it before lifting it up and filling it with water. Leaning against the counter, he finished off the glass of scotch as he watched the kettle heat up on the stove. Refilling his glass, he tried not to give into the thoughts that were pounding at his head. He reminded himself that Alex was in the bedroom, waiting for him, and he couldn't leave her in there to wallow in sorrow on her own. He had to stay, to be there for her. Closing his eyes, he stilled his mind, his heart, and focused on staying in control for as long as she was awake.

She was still lying on the bed but was now clutching a pillow under her head. He sat the drinks down and moved behind her in the bed. "Sit up," he told her as he settled against the headboard. Once she was up, he pulled her to him, letting her rest back against him and then handed her the cup.

Taking a sip of the tea, she eased back into his chest and closed her eyes. Bobby tilted his head down, kissing over her shoulder and to her neck. She was warm against him and the shaking had stopped. Running his hands up along her arms to her shoulders, he started massaging the tense muscles. Hearing her hum in the pleasure he was causing her, he closed his eyes and smiled slightly. Maybe they could get through this. Maybe they were okay.

Bobby nuzzled the crock of her neck and kissed along her skin as he continued the massage.

"If you think this is going to lead to sex you're sorely mistaken," she dryly told him.

Chuckling, he whispered into her ear, "Damn, you're onto me."

Turning to him, she pressed a kiss to his lips before pulling away. "I'm always onto you."

He had to ask even though he was certain of the answer, "We're okay?"

Alex stared up at him; giving a slight smile, she answered, "We're okay." She turned her head back around but stayed in his arms.

He couldn't help to smile even though it never reached his darkening eyes as he began to lose his focus. Nothing else was spoken between them that night. After Alex finished her tea, she fell asleep in his arms while he sipped on the scotch as the thoughts inside his head collided and then made a harrowing descent.

TBC...


	27. What kind of man you want to be

A/N: Again, I appreciate the reviews, they keep me happy and they keep me writing. Here's another chapter for you wonderful readers!

Enjoy!

**

* * *

**

_"Bobby? What're you doing here?"_

_He started walking toward his dad as he told him, "Came to see you."_

_Bill eyed him for a moment but instead of telling him to leave like he expected, he patted the barstool next to him. "Sit down for a minute. Hey, Davy, get Bobby a soda, would ya."_

_Climbing up on the barstool, he smiled a little at not being told to take a hike by his father. It wasn't his first time in Milligan's, his dad's favorite bar. A few times Bill had taken both him and Frank there when they were younger; when his parents were still together. "What, uh…what're you talking about? Horses?"_

_"As a matter of fact no," Bill told him as he took a drink. "I'm talking about you and Frank."_

_At that, his ears perked up as he thanked Davy for the soda he placed in front of him._

_"Anyway, as I was saying," his dad went on to the guy he was talking with. He recognized the man as Ferdie, his friends Mikey and Charlie's dad. "When it comes to playing any kind of sport, Bobby and Frank are as different as night and day. Take baseball for example," he paused to take a drag off the cigarette in his hand before continuing, "Bobby's only good at playing one position, catcher. Granted, the boy's a thinker and like I've always said: catcher is the thinking man's position. In that regard, it's a perfect fit."_

_He sat a little straighter on the barstool at that. That actually sounded like a compliment. _

_"But," Bill continued, "another reason why it's the only position he can play is because he has a wild arm. He can't throw straight. I heard that Bobby tried to throw a kid out at second once and the ball ended up five feet away from the second baseman and over his head for Christ's sake. And another thing he does wrong is that he swings at everything. They call him the 'strikeout king' because he strikes out more than he actually hits the damn ball."_

_His whole body had tensed while his father was talking. The pride he had felt earlier faded into shame at not being good enough according to his dad. That shame clenched his heart as he took a wary, shy glance over at Bill. He watched for a moment as his dad looked down at the drink in front of him while he puffed away at the smoke. Looking away as his dad continued to ignore him, he wondered at the reason why he hadn't bolted for the door yet. He knew it would only get worse._

_"Yeah," Ferdie was saying, "but I've seen Bobby swing. He tries to kill the ball every time, and when he does get a hit, he usually gets a homerun for the effort."_

_"Sure, but a homerun every five attempts at bat," Bill said. "What is that? That's not going to win games, and it certainly isn't going to help his team advance to state. It's one of the reasons I can't stand to watch him play; he's not worth it. He's not a team player, and he's definitely not a leader. He's not thinking about trying to get a good hit for the team, making a sac fly, or batting runners in, all he's thinking about is swinging as hard as he can and trying to get it over the fence. He swings so hard, he misses most the time."_

_"Ease up, Bill, Bobby's sitting right next to you."_

_He didn't look to see if his dad turned to look at him or not, but he heard his reply._

_"So, he knows he's a fuck up, that's why he quit after one season. He always gives up and quits instead of trying to better himself. He thinks he doesn't have to work hard at anything. I'll be surprised if he actually graduates."_

_"Speaking of school," Ferdie said, "Shouldn't you be in class right now, Bobby?"_

_He suddenly felt the eyes on him and he shifted his eyes to his dad. "Tomorrow's my birthday…mom said I could stay home today…If I wanted," he told his father the lie and hoped he believed him, but from the look in Bill's eyes, he knew that wasn't the case. He was suddenly knocked back and almost fell off the stool from the backhand his father gave to his mouth._

_"What'd I tell you about lying to me?"_

_The sting of the slap burned at his face and it brought tears to his eyes. Looking around, he saw the looks on the other men's faces; it wasn't anger or disgust at his dad for smacking him, but indifference and even a few people looked slightly amused. Then there were the men who looked at his dad with understanding, like if he was their kid they would have hit him too for lying. _

_Staring back at the bar and daring not to look his dad in the eyes, he mumbled a soft, "S-sorry, but…I did-didn't feel like going," he told him honestly. "And it-it, uh, it is my fifteenth birthday tomorrow." He glanced to Bill and held his blue eyes to his brown for a moment, trying to see if he cared._

_"And that justifies skipping school toady? You just started last week." Bill stared down at him and then looked to the clock, it was after two. "Nothing I can do about it now," he said before looking back down at him. Suddenly, he shook his head and laughed; turning back to Ferdie, he said, "I take it back, the boy isn't a thinker at all. He skips school and comes here."_

_He could still see the uncaring and the amused looks on the other men's faces who had witnessed the slap and that belittling. And once again, no one came to his defense, not even his friends dad. Ferdie had just looked away. _

_"I wanted to see you," he told him but he wasn't sure if his dad heard him or not. "I knew that, uh, that you wo-wouldn't be by the apartment tomorrow, or call."_

_"What'd you say?" Bill asked as he turned back to him. "That I'm not being a good father to you?" He leaned into him and dropped his voice low and cold as he sternly told him, "Why don't you start giving me a reason to, huh? Work on that, and maybe I just might start appreciating what you do."_

_He clenched his jaw and looked away as the anger rose in him. "Right," he said, swallowing hard. "Be more like Frank, right?"_

_"That'll be a start. Go join the basketball team or something this year and try harder at being good at something other than quitting."_

_"Why…Then, why don't you teach me how-how, to pitch…like wi-with Frank?"_

_His father had turned away from him then as he picked up his glass and took a drink. Bringing it back down to the bar and after flicking the cigarette ash in the tray, he surprisingly answered him, saying, "Like I said, you can't throw. There would be no point. Plus, you don't listen, don't pay attention." _

_Bill looked over at him then and gave him a look, one that warned him to keep quiet; to not disrupt him again. He knew that look all too well. Turning back to be staring at the soda in front of him, he took a sip and kept his mouth shut._

_Then, acting like nothing just happened between the two of them, Bill said to Ferdie, "My son Frank, on the other hand, now he's versatile. Not only is he one of the best pitchers his team has, but he can also play shortstop. The coach clocked his pitch one time at ninety miles per hour, the curveball is his knock-out pitch though, I taught him that. Lead with the fast ball, end with the curve. Gets them every time. And with Frank, when he gets up to bat, he gets a hit. Has the least strikeouts and he can hit anything. I'm telling ya, Ferdie, whether it's a bunt, or sac fly, line drive in-between first and second, whatever, he can do it. Just tell him where you want him to put the ball, and he'll put it there. That's why they made him captain every year. He values the game and the team, and he takes pride in that. Same with basketball, and didn't I tell you, Frank's getting scholarship offers from six different universities, all we have to do is pick which one. Free fucking ride," he finished praising Frank and stuck the cigarette back in his mouth._

_Having abandoned the soda, he had turned and watched his father with wounded eyes. The anger along with the embarrassment had crept up in his chest and heart and he was fighting to not let it get to him. Listening to his father talk about him and Frank, and from the way Bill just treated him in front of everyone in the bar, it was obvious how he felt about the both of them. Frank was his pride, his joy, his favorite, and what was he? Second best, runner up? From what he heard, his dad made it sound like he wasn't even in the running. That he wasn't even his son. _

_So what if he couldn't hit for shit most of the time; he's hit the most homeruns by a freshmen in school history. Yeah, it didn't lead the JV team to the state championship, but its something. He had tried his best. And so what if he couldn't throw a ball straight? His coach told him he was the best catcher they had because he was fearless. It didn't matter how hard the ball was thrown at him or where it went, he put himself directly in the line of fire and kept the ball from ever getting away from him. He never had to make a throw to second or third except for the one time, and that was because the runner on the other team wasn't paying attention. But despite his wild throw away and over the head of the second baseman, the runner, who had rounded third and had been charging his way toward home plate, never scored. For being a catcher, he was tall, long, and he could catch anything. The leftfielder, who was actually Ferdie's son Charlie, was able to throw it over the runner and he didn't have to even jump to make the catch before tagging the runner out just inches short of home plate. _

_His coach had told him it was the best tag out at home plate he ever saw, and that out had won them the game. Too bad he had no one there from his family to witness that play he made. To see just how good he was. To make him stay with it instead of making him feel that there was no point._

_He was now a sophomore and he was a pretty good player, but the reasons why quit were the same reasons why he always had to quit. His father, was one of those reasons. His mother was another, and then his school attendance always made an impact on whether he stayed on a team or not. As he picked up the soda and took a drink, he thought about what his dad had said. Maybe he should join the basketball team. He was good at it, and it was his dad's favorite high school sport. When Frank played basketball, Bill never missed a single game. There was no reason for him not to come to his games as well._

_Tilting his head towards his dad, and rubbing at the back of his head, he watched as his dad pulled a nearly empty pack of cigarettes from out of his suit jacket._

_"Davy," Bill yelled out to the bartender, "where's my other pack of smokes, huh? You're slacking here. I'm starting to think you don't want me to tip you today." He took out a cigarette then stuffed the soft pack back into his jacket pocket._

_"Sorry about that, Mr. Goren," Davy said as he hurriedly got him a new pack. "A pack of Lucky's coming right up."_

_He shook his head at his father's gull, and at the fact that he knew his dad told the bartender to call him 'Mister', because that was just the way he was. Picking up his soda, he finished it off before saying, "I'll go." As he slid off the stool toward his father, he stumbled, making himself trip off the stool, and fell right into his side._

_"Watch it, Bobby," Bill yelled as he moved away as he reached out to take the new pack of cigarettes from Davy. "I swear, you're the most clumsiest kid I ever saw."_

_"Sorry," he mumbled an apology as he quickly turned and walked out. _

_Once out on the street, he smirked as he pulled the nearly empty pack of cigarettes out of the sleeve of his flannel shirt. Just like a magic trick. Taking out his own lighter, he lit one of his father's smokes as he made his way out of Manhattan and back to Brooklyn. _

Stirring himself awake, he groaned a little at the memory that had awoken him. He had been thinking about his father all night and it had spilled over into his dreams. Having to wake to that memory pulled at his heart as he felt the absence of warmth in the bed. Alex wasn't next to him.

The first thing he thought was that she was in the kitchen cooking breakfast, or in the bathroom taking a shower, or standing at the dresser getting ready for work. Then, he opened his eyes and realized that she was still in bed but on the far edge of it instead of next to him. His second thought was that it was his fault somehow, that maybe in the middle of the night he had pushed her away.

It had taken him hours to fall asleep after she did. He let her sleep in his arms, against his chest, as his mind tormented him with all his insecurities. Bobby really wished he could turn his mind off, make it stop, but he never could. There was no controlling it no matter how hard he tried; sooner or later, it was going to get the best of him, that he knew. One of these days, the world would kick him and beat him down so hard mentally he was afraid that there would be no coming back. Until then, he had to deal with it. At least, he still had her.

However, how much of her he still had he didn't know.

Last night took him by surprise in the worst way possible. He never had to confront the possibility of himself being a father before. He could say so much about how he would react or what he thought about it but to be actually faced with it, for it to have been real…It was the scariest night of his life.

What he told Alex was the truth. He was scared, he would have freaked out, but he wouldn't have taken off. He would have backed her up like always. He also wasn't just overreacting when he had told her that he didn't want it to be happening. The battle within him at whether in wanting it to have been a positive or a negative was only intensified by his wanting the whole situation to not even have happened. There had been no desire in him to confront those fears head-on like that, and he was feeling, and would now for the rest of his life, feel the consequences of that confrontation.

What took him the most by surprise last night was what she had said. Through it all, Alex's main concern was them. She had been sitting on the opposite side of the door and all she was wondering about was if their relationship could have lasted if it was a positive. If they were going to be parents. There was no thought in his mind about them at all, except of it getting more complicated, and arguing, but there was no questioning of would they survive it together.

His thoughts in being strong for her was the closest conscious thought he had of what he thought Alex was going through. And it was only for the purpose in preventing himself from breaking, and that he didn't want to have to fully deal with it. In trying to keep it together for her, he was only trying to protect himself from the full weight of it until they had their answer.

Alex, his one saving grace, was worried about him. All she asked about was what did _he_ think, what would _he_ have done, and then would _they_ be able to survive it together. What she was really asking was would having a child bring them closer together or drive them further apart.

His answer to that troubled him, because until she voiced her concern about it, he thought they would. Now, he didn't know; that scared him more than anything. Did Alex have so little trust in him in that regard? Or was she questioning her own faith in herself to get through the struggle with him?

And that was what it would have been, one hell of a struggle.

They had conflicting options on certain things and he was absolutely certain that it would intensify in regards to how to raise a child. Which school to send him/her to, if religion would be a part of their life, where to live because they would have to move out of Greenpoint, Brooklyn and to a better neighborhood. That brought to mind buying a house and getting a mortgage. He didn't want a house or a mortgage. Then the question would've been either Queens with her parents, sister Angie, and brother Junior, or Staten Island with her sister Liz, or Long Island with her brother Richard.

Staten Island would have definitely been out of the question. Or neither of those. Maybe he would have gotten a say and she would have agreed to stay in Brooklyn but move to his old neighborhood of Canarsie. Maybe she would have agreed to not let their child go to Sunday mass with her parents. She didn't go, having lost her dedication to the church in favor of her dedication to her job, but she still had faith.

Then there was the fact that Alex would've quit her job to raise their child, until, at least, the kid started school. Private or public? He wouldn't mind his child going to public school, he did and he turned out just fine as did many millions of other people, but she would probably want her kid to go to private school. That also meant more money along with the mortgage and a new car for him because the Mustang wasn't very kid friendly; after having Nathan in his car, it solidified to him that he never wanted another child in it ever again.

So, if he added it all up right that was: another car, a house that he would have to pay on for everything including repairs, private school, and all the essentials like clothes and food and toys and a college fund and everything else.

People who had children were out of their minds.

And those weren't even half the things they would have to deal with. He wasn't even trying to think about the added parental responsibilities, emotional and physical burdens, and the problems and issues it would cause to his mother and Frank. It shouldn't be a worry, or a concern, when it came to how a family would respond and deal with a child being brought into the mix, but his family was different. It would just be one more thing. One more source of…of, infliction, his mother could use, or emotional blackmail from the both of them: her and his brother.

Oh…God, he needed to stop thinking before he convinced himself into getting a vasectomy.

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and willed the thoughts that wouldn't stop invading his mind away. Burying his head in the pillow, he peered over at Alex and reached out to her under the blanket. Gently resting his hand on her waist, he didn't feel her stir or tense under his touch. She was still asleep.

Instead of pulling her to him, he went to her. Moving closer, he rubbed his hand along her waist and stomach as he settled behind her. Holding her close to his body, he finally felt himself relax with her wrapped in his arms. He missed her warmth, the feel of her body and the touch of her skin. Closing his eyes, he settled back down but didn't fall back to sleep. His mind wouldn't let him as another memory of his father came to mind.

_Entering the apartment behind his mother, he first heard the radio going. It was broadcasting a baseball game and the moment he heard the name Mike Kekich, he knew that it was the Yankees playing. Kekich was one of his favorite pitchers because he was a lefty like him, but he batted with his right, which to him was just awkward. The second thing he noticed was his dad was home. It shouldn't have surprised him, seeing how it was Sunday and that was usually when his father did come home, but it did. Smiling wide, he hurried around his mom and over to the chair where his dad was sitting. _

_Bill was relaxing back, feet propped up on the footrest, and he was holding a glass in one hand and a book in the other. He immediately knew what the book was; whenever his father read, it was always poetry, and that was something that happened so rarely now. Another thing that was happening rarely was his dad even being home. It had been almost two weeks since he had seen him, so he didn't think too much about it as he went over to his father to welcome him home._

"_Hi, dad."_

_Bill took a glance at him but didn't say anything as he took a sip of the drink and went back to his book._

"_Wha-what's the score?" he hurriedly asked, pertaining to the baseball game._

"_Four, nothing, Milwaukee. They're taking Kekich out after only the first inning," his father told him with a bitter laugh. "Looks like your favorite pitcher is off his mark today."_

_He felt the sting of that in his father's words to him. Looking at the floor, he tried to think of something else he could do or say to get some sort of approval out of his dad. "Who're you reading? Dylan Thomas?"_

"_No," Bill's voice was starting to sound annoyed. "William Stafford."_

_That made him smile because he knew a lot of Stafford's poems. Taking a moment to remember the lines to his favorite, he started reciting the words from the poem 'Traveling Through the Dark'. "Traveling through the dark…I found a deer, dead, on the edge of Wilson River road. It's usually best to roll them into the canyon: that road is narrow…to swerve, might make more dead. By glow of the taillight, I stumbled back of the car, stood by the heap…a doe, a recent killing. She had stiffened already, almost cold…I dragged her off; she was large in the belly. My fingers, touching her side, brought me the reason…Her side was warm; her fawn lay there, waiting…alive, still…never to be born. Beside that mountain road, I hesitated…The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights; under the hood purred the steady engine…I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red; around our group, I could hear the wilderness listen." Taking a moment to look up at his father, he saw his eyes watching him; he was listening. Leaning forward on the arm of the chair, he spoke softly to his dad as he finished the poem, "I thought, _hard_, for us-my only swerving-then…pushed her over the edge, into the river."_

_Bill stared down at him for a long moment before asking, "That's your favorite?" When he nodded, his father gave him a weird look. "Why? It's so…depressing."_

"_And weird," Frank announced from the dining room table._

_He knew it was, but, there was something about it that left him feeling, somewhat, hopeful. "I-I don't think it's that, uh, that depressing. I see that, th-the, uh, the narrator, the man in the poem…that he did a good thing. He was…an angel of mercy, putting the unborn fawn out of its misery."_

"_How's that?" Bill asked as he turned his head away, probably thinking he couldn't give him an answer to that question._

"_The mother, sh-she, uh, she was dead…the man knew that, even…even, wi-with, a, uh, a successful birth, the fawn would, it wo-would still have died…but-" _

"_Just say it," Bill snapped at him as he slapped him on the back of the head. "They're only words, why is it so hard for you to say them? Reciting a poem, you're fine, but speaking your own mind, it's like you…It's like you don't have a mind to speak. And you wonder why no one listens to you. You make it impossible. It makes you sound stupid, Bobby. If you sound stupid people are going to think you're stupid. You have to be able to speak, you'll get nowhere if you can't."_

_Feeling the tears well in his eyes, he tried not to let his father's condescending words get to him as he finished his explanation. He wanted to show his dad that he was good at something; that he was smart even though it was hard for him to articulate all the thoughts and knowledge that was spinning around his head. He was only eleven and he knew what articulate meant for crying out loud! Taking a moment to swallow the shame down his tight throat, and to catch his breath, he continued but the nervousness was making it worse, "W-with no one, to-to, to care for it, it would've suffered more, be, uh, because of its mom being gone. Letting it go…uh, go alone, without it-its mom into the wilderness, leaving it t-to, to be preyed upon, or letting it wonder back to-to the road for, for it to be, uh, to be struck and killed, th-the same as its mother…it's, um…well, that's just cruel. There was no other way. He-he had to give it a painless…peaceful, death."_

_Bill stared down at him again and he didn't know what that look was in his father's eyes, but it made his breath catch in his throat. "You know something, Bobby? Through all that stuttering, stammering bullshit, I have no idea what you just said. You lost me because you can't talk right."_

_Lowering his head, he willed the hurt down as he tried to get his nerves under control; as he tried to calm himself down enough to explain right. To talk right. "I-I…I'm not…" he felt the tears start to warm his eyes as he tried to figure out what to say, but before he could come up with a satisfying answer, he heard his dad._

"_Hey, Frank?…Frankie, hey, look at me when I'm talking to you!"_

_Frank snapped his head up. "I'm doing my homework, dad."_

"_What'd you think about what Bobby just said? About the poem? Did you understand it?"_

_Frank shrugged his shoulders as he answered, "I don't know. It's always hard to understand what he says when he does that, but it sounded like some weird thing he would say, I guess."_

_Bill closed his eyes and shook his head in annoyance. "Do you know any poetry?"_

_Frank wrinkled his face in confusion. "Poems? No, that's Bobby's thing. He's always reading, even out of school," he grumbled as he went back to doing his homework. _

_His dad didn't seem to like hearing that as he told Frank, "By Friday I want you to recite me a poem, and then explain it to me."_

_Frank groaned and glared not at their father but at him. "Do I have to? The only reason Bobby's so good with that stuff is because I'm better than him at everything else. He thinks he can get your attention by reading it."_

_He shot a look of pained anger at his brother. He couldn't believe Frank said that, and that he took their dad's side, but of course, Frank always would. Turning back to his dad, he told him, "I like poetry."_

_Bill picked up a thin book that was sitting on the round table next to him. It was one of his favorite poetry books, one that they weren't allowed to touch. Getting up, his dad went over to the table and slapped the book down in front of Frank. "I mean it. At least one by Friday or you won't be allowed to go over to Ben's this coming weekend."_

"_But," Frank went to protest, "his dad's taking us to see the Yankees."_

"_Then I suggest you start reading."_

"_Can I read it?" he asked as he got up and went to the table. _

_Turning to him, Bill asked, "Did I give it to you?"_

"_No," he answered meekly._

_Bill just eyed him before walking away, back over to his chair, and sat down._

_Frank sighed heavily as he rubbed at his head. "Thanks a lot. Now I've got to read this, plus do my school work, and I have practice Tuesday and Thursday."_

_He rolled his eyes at Frank. "It's not that hard to remember a poem."_

"_Maybe not for you, you remember everything. My brain doesn't work that way. I actually have to study."_

_Feeling the guilt at making things a little more harder on his brother, he looked toward their dad and then back at him. Taking the notebook Frank had been writing in, he told him, "Bedroom." Grabbing one of Frank's school books, he started for their room._

"_Bobby…Bob-wait up," Frank said as he hurriedly grabbed the rest of his school stuff and followed._

_Once in the room, he shut the door and put the lock on and hoped their mom wouldn't try to bust in. Their dad didn't know they had put the lock on the door and they were afraid of him finding out about it. _

_Sitting on the floor, he opened the notebook before asking, "Pencil?"_

_Frank tossed him the pencil as he asked, "What're you doing?"_

"_Your homework, that way you, uh, you don't have to worry about it. Dad, he really wants you to memorize a poem, an-and, uh, and he won't be too happy when you don't. Besides, I-I don't want to hear you cry all week over not getting to see the Yankees play."_

_Frank gapped at him before saying, "You can't do my homework, you're three grades behind me."_

_He shook his head at his brother as he read over the assignment. It was for history class and the subject was the Civil War. Smiling he took the history book and opened it to the correct page. Reading over the questions, he started answering them without even reading back through the chapters. _

"_You're only eleven and this is high school-" Frank stopped complaining as he watched as he went through twenty questions in a matter of minutes. "Damn," he whispered under his breath. "You're a genius."_

"_No, I'm not," he told him as he finished the last question. "I just…I, uh, I remember what I read. And since I-I read a lot, I, remember a lot." Looking up at his brother, he saw the smile on Frank's face. _

"_Thanks, I owe you one. How 'bout movies next weekend, my treat?"_

_Smiling back, he tore out the notebook page and put it in the book then closed it before pulling over the literature book. "How about a-a, uh, a baseball game instead?"_

_Frank nodded and grabbed the poetry book. Lying down on his bed, he opened it and started flipping through the pages as he told him, "I'll call Ben's dad and see if you can go with us."_

_A while later, as he was working on the math problems that were more complicated than his sixth grade mathematics education, the sound of shattering glass froze his muscles and clenched his throat. Then, as he and Frank stared over at each other, the yelling started._

_Frank got up angrily, tossed the poetry book on the floor, and cursed under his breath as he went to the closet. Getting out his jacket, he pulled it on as he hurried over to the window. "I'm outta here."_

_He watched as Frank climbed out of the window and disappeared down the fire escape. Gathering up the school work, he put it all in Frank's backpack before heading to the bedroom door and taking the lock off it._

_Standing at the back of the hallway, and hidden behind the corner of the wall, he listened to the fighting as he felt the anger at both his parents stir within him. He was angry with the both of them. Him for treating his mother the way he did, and her for…for everything else. She was talking crazy again, and the words that she said frightened him; filled him with shame and dread. _

_Then he heard it, the gut wrenching sting of skin hitting skin. He abandoned his safety spot, his false sense of invisibility and security, as he headed down the hallway. In the kitchen, he saw them. His mom holding her face, tears streaming down her face. His dad, turning away and covering his mouth and then with a determinedly stern look in his eyes, he walked out of the kitchen, right by him like he wasn't even standing there, and disappeared down the hall._

_Never taking his eyes off his mom, he watched as she stood so still with her hand pressed firmly against her cheek, that he wasn't sure if she could still move or not. It looked as if she was frozen in place, and then, just as he blinked to look away she collapsed to the floor. _

_Rushing to her, he barely got close enough to see the fear in her brown eyes and the handprint on her face before she screamed for him to get away. Not listening, he reached out to touch her and she smacked his arm away before pushing against his legs, sending him stumbling back. Her reaction to his presence stunned him as he hit the wall and stayed there, plastered against it. Staring into her eyes, the pure wild panic and fear he saw in them scared him to the depths of his soul. It broke his heart and made his body tremble. _

"_Mom?" he asked barely above a whisper._

_From the confusion that filled her eyes and then the amount of sorrowful fear that shook her voice as she told him, "No, get away! You're not my son," he nearly collapsed himself._

_It was the first time he realized that what she was seeing in those big brown eyes of hers wasn't him. It was the first time he truly feared his mother. At hearing footsteps coming back down the hall, he turned his head to see his dad walk by with two suitcases in his hands. "Dad?"_

"_I'm through with this shit!" Bill announced. "I'm done! You hear me, Frances! I'm done with it, with you! I told you this would happen, you just wouldn't listen…You never fucking listen to me! Now look! Look at what you've done to your family, Frances! You're making me leave! This is your fault, not mine! I've done everything I could do to help you, to not let this happen, but you…You wouldn't even try! You've refused to put any effort into getting better!"_

_Even though he was standing right there, his dad didn't even address him or look at him as he berated his mother. Swallowing hard, and fighting down the fear, he asked, "Dad?" Finally prying himself away from the wall, he followed. "Where…?"_

_Bill didn't stop as he went to the front door and pulled it open. "I'll be back for the rest of my stuff in a few days!"_

_Feeling his own panic set in, he yelled desperately at his dad; at the man he was supposed to respect, supposed to look up to and thrive to be like. The man that was supposed to protect him, take care of him, and love him. The man that he would grow to hate and despise. The man who he would always fear that he would turn into and be. The man that would, even in death, have him doubt the man he did become to be. "Dad! What about us? You can't just leave! We're your family and we need you! We love you…" In his panic and anger, he picked up a picture frame that was sitting on the bookcase next to him. Throwing it toward the slamming door, he watched as it hit the wall a few feet next to it at the same time he screamed out, "I love you!"_

_The silence that engulfed the apartment startled him. His dad was gone. Breathing out, he leaned forward, arms wrapping around his stomach as he felt the pain rip through his heart, soul and mind. Falling to his knees, he pounded the floor with a balled fist as the tears broke._

_He cried because he knew he wouldn't be back. He cried because he believed the words his dad had spoken and he blamed his mother for him leaving. He cried because he knew nothing would ever be the same again._

_He would never be the same._

Feeling a hand caressing his cheek, he jerked as his eyes focused on the woman lying next to him. The concern in her eyes would have shaken him if he wasn't already trembling.

"Bobby?"

Closing his eyes against the touch, he tried to push back the pain he felt in his chest as she pulled him against her. He hadn't meant to lose himself so far in his head and his memory that he scared her.

"Bobby, what's wrong? You're shaking…Bobby?"

Taking a deep breath, he could barely speak as he apologized, "Sorry. It's nothing…I-I, uh…I was just thinking."

Her hands were rubbing along his back, around his neck, and it seemed to help ease the shaking. Then he felt her lips against his face and then on his mouth. Kissing her back, Bobby let his mind focus solely on that kiss and the feeling it caused him as he finally calmed down. As the pain of that day so long ago finally was pushed back down into the dark depths of his soul.

Ending the kiss, Alex didn't let him go as she asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Not being able to look her in the eyes just yet as he still felt the sting of tears in them, he looked down between their barely separated bodies as he answered, "I'm sure. I didn't mean to scare you."

She wasn't going to let him get away from her that easily as she forced his chin up with her finger. Trying to turn away, he knew she saw the look in his eyes as he felt her breath hitch for a moment. "It's okay to be sad, Bobby. To cry."

"I don't want to cry, Alex," he sternly told her. "He's not worth it." The second he said it, he knew he had said too much.

"He?" It didn't take long before she made the connection. Her ability to figure him out was one of the reasons he loved her so much. "Your father?"

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Bobby rolled onto his back then dropped his hand to his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. "Yeah…" he said with a breath of defeat. "Him."

She was silent for a moment before asking, "You never cried for him? Not even when he died?"

_He was sitting at his desk, reading through the Narcotics and Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlets information sheets, and a book about addictive personalities and the mind when he heard his phone ring. Taking a look toward his partners desk, he didn't see his partner, Jason Schiller, sitting there to answer the phone for him. _

_Sighing heavily, he picked up the receiver and answered, "Goren, Narcotics."_

"_Hey, Bobby, this is Amanda…"_

_It took him a moment to realized it was Amanda Bennett, one of the nurses at St. Mary's Hospital in the Bronx. Stunned at the reason she would be calling him, especially seeing how they hadn't dated in about eighteen months, he worriedly asked, "Yeah? What, uh…what's going on?"_

_She was silent for a moment before asking, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, I know you're probably working, or at home…"_

_Looking at the clock, he saw that it was nearly ten o'clock at night. He should be getting home but… "It's okay, um, is there something I can help you with?"_

"_It depends. I know that it's a long shot, but," the way she was hesitating set his nerves on edge. "Do you know a William Franklyn Goren?"_

_He stilled. She was asking about his dad? Feeling his hand start to shake, he closed his eyes as he realized what she was about to tell him. Taking a moment to calm himself, and to get his voice to be as steady as possible, he informed her, "He's my father."_

_Her next words to him would have caused any other man to break down, it only caused him to numb everything that was beating and running through his body, through his veins, as he heard of his father's death. Hanging up the phone, he sat there, with his hand gripping it for a good five minutes before he stood, grabbed his coat, and left the department. _

The white plaster on the ceiling blurred in the swirl of salted tears before they slid down over his temples, against his ears and into his hair. "No…I didn't." Realizing what was happening, what she was seeing, he covered his eyes and turned away, quickly wiping the tears away.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't need to hide-"

He was up out of bed before he could hear anymore of what she had to say. It wasn't comfortable for him to break like that, especially with Alex right next to him. He had done it once already, and he was still paying the price for breaking his walls down for her. But he was trying to build himself back up, damn it! He was trying to regain his control back, his barriers back, his confidence and feeling like he could rely on himself, his own self, back.

Not making it very far, he sat on the edge of the bed and buried his throbbing head in his shaking hands. Feeling the hurt filling his gut with hot lead and twisting at his insides, he nearly got sick. Breathing out, and trying desperately to pushed the pain away, he felt her hands start on his back. Her palms, kneading his tensed muscles, as her fingers soothed circles along his shoulder blades. Then she was leaning against him, bringing her hands up to massage his shoulders, his neck, as she kissed his head.

"Bobby," she said to him. "I want you to listen to me. Okay?"

"I'm not in the mood to talk, Alex."

"I'm not asking you to. I said to listen. I know that right now, you're thinking about him and questioning yourself."

"I don't want to be like him," he softly told her. "But, I keep thinking…keep trying to figure out what kind of father I would be. Last night didn't help."

He felt her arms wrap around him, pulling him back into her as she told him, "It all depends on what kind of man you want to be. You can be like him, neglecting me, ignoring me and all the people you care about…Or," she kissed him on his ear before telling him, "or, you do everything that you've already been doing. Bobby, there is nothing too wrong with you that we can't be a good father. You are, without a doubt, the best man I've known. In some ways you're even better than Joe. I have never seen a man sacrifice so much of himself to a woman, his mother, who…who treats him like he doesn't even belong to her half the time. I've never seen a man so dedicated to the principles of truth, and justice, to his job that he will defy everyone that stands in his way if it means getting it. Yeah, it may be against the statues quo, it may make it that much more difficult, but in the end that is what matters most. Not getting praises from the brass and promotions for ass-kissing, but seeing that everyone, even the guilty in your case, gets a fair shake. God, Bobby, how can you not see that you are so much better than not only your father but every cop I've ever worked with? Why do you think I've stood by you this whole time? Why I love you so damn much? Why I would put my own self on the line for you without thinking twice about it?"

Turning his face toward her, he asked as gracefully as he could, "Don't you ever leave me, Alex. Please," he begged as any form of dignity he had faded away. "Please, don't ever go."

"That's a scary thought, and such a heavy burden to put on me."

Closing his eyes, he knew it was. He knew his dependence for her was going to be the death of him. "I'm not asking you to…to love me, forever. If you can't…I'll never force you. But, just…don't hate me. Don't, abandon me…leave me out, alone…" he trailed off as the remaining words filled his head but never slipping from his tongue. _Waiting to die. Alone, without you._

He would never tell her that. Never lay that on her, to weigh her down as the world was weighing him down.

Kissing him hard on the lips, she whispered to him, "Oh, Bobby," he could hear the sorrow in her voice. The tears that wetted her face smeared on his own, as she let them go freely while telling him, "I'll never do that to you. I'll always be here, no matter what."

She kissed his cheek and then his lips, and as they deepened the kiss, her hands slid down his chest, igniting a fire along his skin. Needing to feel, to touch more of her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her around to his lap. Straddling him, she held him tightly to her as their kisses became more passionate, desperate.

He needed to breathe. Pulling back, he broke the kiss but didn't break contact with her as he leaned into her, burying his face in her neck, and steadied his breathing. She wasn't saying anything and he was actually grateful for that. At the moment he wasn't in need of her logic, or her centering him with words or support of comfort or rationalization. What he was need of was her love, her passion…

Running his hands up under her pajama top, he caressed over the smooth skin of her back as he kissed, sucked, and licked at her neck. From the way she was squirming in his arms, he knew he was exciting her, driving her crazy.

"Umm, Bobby…Bobby, wait, maybe we should talk-"

He silenced her with a hard kiss before telling her, breathlessly, "Talkin's overrated."

She chuckled a little as he kissed along her jaw. "Says the man who doesn't know when to stop talking."

Smiling at the teasing, he shifted up into her, and felt the way her breath hitched as she shivered with anticipation. "I promise," he told her as he unbuttoned her top. "Later, we'll talk."

"I'm holding you to it."

As he kissed over her neck and chest, his left hand massaged at her breasts while his right worked under the waistband of her silk pajama bottoms. Alex's hands were everywhere on him; she caressed over his neck, his back, running her nails over his hot sensitive skin, making him jerk against her with a groan of pleasure. The moment he got her panties and bottoms down far enough, he was ready to take her.

She must have had the same thought as she suddenly pushed him onto his back and nearly yanked his sweats along with his boxers down his thighs. Not wasting any time, he gripped her sides and with ease, moved up into her as she moved down on him. His breath caught at the feel of her surrounding him and it took all his strength and will not to flip her over and drive into her until they both screamed as they came hard and fast.

Alex had other plans as she moved on top of him, taking her time as she leaned her head back and enjoyed the slow sensations of their love making. It wasn't that he didn't love and deeply enjoy this, taking it slow, letting it build, but at the moment it was getting hard to fight back the need to come. He was so desperate for it, to have her, that nothing was working to help him in waiting.

"This is…ughn, God," his voice choked as she drove down on him a little hard. "Torture.." he finished saying as he breathed out of his quivering mouth. Peering up at Alex through his heavily sedated eyes, he saw her smile. She would.

"Just enjoy the ride, Bobby."

"Oh, baby…I'm enjoying…believe me." He smiled back before he his body leaned back as he bucked up, pleading with her to go just a little faster.

And she did. Alex started moving faster, and harder, on him as he felt her body start to tense. He knew she was on the verge of coming as her breathes got quicker, tighter…Feeling his own body tightening as his heart pounded in his chest, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. His hands tightened on her waist as they sped up the pace. Her hands fisted his chest, digging nails into his skin and he was gone.

His whole body tensed then broke as his eyes clenched shut as he came hard, spilling himself into her as he felt her convulse around him. He didn't stop moving until he was done, spent and collapsed into the mattress as she collapsed on top of him.

He had yet to open his eyes as his head spun and his lungs burned from holding his breath. Wrapping his arms around her, he felt how sweaty she was along her back and for some reason that made him want to laugh. Kissing the top of her head, he finally opened his eyes and blinking up at the ceiling as he hands continued to run along her back, under her top, and breath in the smell of them together.

It took a little longer for her to stop breathing heavily against his chest, but the moment he felt her take in a deep breath, he felt her move her head as she kissed over his chest.

He shivered slightly against the feel before looking down at her. Alex rested her chin on him and the look nearly broke his heart. She was so beautiful, glowing, and totally satisfied, relaxed, and her eyes were shining with the love she held for him.

"Well, how was that?"

Breaking out into a grin, he laughed a little at that cocky question. She knew she had just blew his mind. Instead of telling her that, he decided to tease her, "I don't know…Wasn't quite your best-Ow!" She had bite him and after the first initial shock of pain, he started laughing again.

"Asshole," she teased before kissing him again.

The alarm clock choose that moment to start going off and he groaned while she rolled off of him and turned it off. He felt so cold without her body on his; reaching down, he pulled up his sweats but that was all the movement he could do at the moment. He was exhausted. Looking over, he saw her crawl back into bed above him.

Leaning down, she kissed him firmly on the lips before asking, "Why is your alarm set for four-thirty in the morning?"

"My commute is longer," he simply told her. "Sucks doesn't it?"

"You have no idea," she groaned as she kissed him again. "When do you sleep?" At the look he gave her, she said, "Don't answer that. I guess it'll give me time to go to the gym a little earlier than usual."

Reaching out, he caressed over her cheek, keeping her from pulling away as he brought her down for another, longer kiss. When she finally did pull away, after much restraint, he told her, "That reminds me, I've got a game tonight. Some guys from narcotics want me to fill-in…They heard about my mad skills on the court." He was expecting Alex to laugh at that, and even though he saw the glint of amusement in her eyes, she looked startled. Then she looked worried. That couldn't be good. Bobby turned to her, asking, "What is it?"

Alex looked like she wanted to tell him, and would tell him, but instead she said, "I'll tell you, but after we both get cleaned up. I'll shower first."

He watched as she left the bedroom and went down to the linen closet in the hall and pulled down two towels before going into the bathroom and closing the door.

* * *

What was she doing? She had been the one who wanted to talk and now she was the one running away from it. She had her reasons for waiting to tell him about what happened yesterday. That conversation, which could very easily lead into a fight, wasn't going to be had out right after they made love. She wanted to at least be clean and dressed first before all hell broke loose.

Breathing out, she turned the water for the shower on. It took a few minutes for it to heat up as she took the opportunity to brush her hair out. Opening the cabinet door under the sink, she took her brush out of the basket she had put there yesterday. At seeing his stack of magazines again, she once again rolled her eyes before something caught her eye. It was a yellow tab…post-it note, sticking out of a page. What the hell? He was marking pages in a porn magazine?

Curiosity getting the best of her, she picked it up and really looked at it. Flipping to the page, she suddenly realized just how un-normal her boyfriend really was. She didn't know if she should have been pleased or really weirded out to the fact that not only did he read the stories in the magazines, but he was keeping notes. The more she flipped through it and noticed what kind of notes he had written in them, the more she realized that these weren't just porn magazines…They were research.

Pulling the wire basket out that held them all, she thumbed through them the stack and noticed that everyone of them had notes and post-it notes sticking out of them. The magazines spanned from the normal to the abnormal…from _Playboy_ to bondage. Dropping the magazines, she stood and closed her eyes. "Bobby!"

"Coming!"

She heard him call out before she heard him coming down the hall. With his height and size, and the fact he had wooden floors, it was impossible for him to sneak up on her. Opening the door just as he approached it, she said, "Do you realize that if we did have a child that you would have to hide everything you read from them?"

He stood stunned in front of her before he asked, "What?"

"I'm not even sure if I should be glad or freaked out in the fact that you study pornographic magazines for profiling suspects."

Bobby still seemed confused until he looked down. "Oh." She saw the blush of embarrassment crept up his chest and neck. "Th-that, uh…That's…"

"Shouldn't it be…I don't know, filed away somewhere instead of under the sink for anybody to see?" She didn't know why she was drilling him about it, but she had to get her frustration out somehow.

"Well, before, it was just me…and it looked more normal to have them under there than say…on my bookshelf in the study."

At seeing the apologetic, and slightly amused look in his eyes, she sighed as the absurdity hit her. Yeah, the bookshelf would have been a very bad place to have them.

Stepping up to her, he took a hold of her hips as his softened a little. "What this really about? I mean, I get it that seeing those…uh, that, well, that it would be…perplexing, and maybe a little troubling, but, that's not the real reason why you had to confront me about it. Is it?" Holding her eyes as she tried to look away, he tilted his head until he met hers and asked, "What _aren't_ you confronting me with?"

Damn it! She really didn't want to have this talk right now. If she thought the bedroom was bad, the bathroom with the shower water running and both of them standing half naked… "Bobby, I'm not ready to have this talk without any pants on."

Smirking, he nodded as he straightened. "Fine. After we shower."

"We?" she asked as his arms wrapped around her and she felt his stubble on her cheek as he kissed her.

"Didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?" Moving away from her, he went to back out into the hall before saying, " Another reason I keep them in here," he gestured to the magazines, changing the subject back, "It's good reading material. I'll grab a towel."

Shaking her head at him, she went over to the tub to check the water temperature.

"The water hot yet?" he called out.

"On fire. I guess you're the only person up at four-thirty in the morning."

"Five," he said from behind her. "Another reason we should shower together, to save time."

That time she didn't hear him. Glaring back at him, she saw that he was putting the magazines back under the sink so he missed the fact that he had caused her to jump. Pulling the curtain around from where it had been pushed back toward the wall, she turned the lever to direct the water flow to the showerhead. She felt his hands on her shoulders, easing the pajama top off. His kisses were soft and comforting on her

Shoulders and up to her neck. Turning to him, she took those lips between hers and leaned back into him.

"After you," he said, taking her hand to help her in.

Smiling at him, she huffed out a laugh, "Yeah, you just want a good look at my ass." She caught the look he gave her but his eyes did stray down as she stepped into the tub. "Such a dog." As the hot spray hit her she yelped and recoiled from it before easing back under it to adjust the cold until it was tolerable.

"As long as it's your tail I'm chasing…" he told her as he stepped in behind her and closed the curtain the rest of the way.

Chuckling at the soft little bark he spoke into her ear before he kissed her cheek, she turned around and pulled him to her. "Your bite is definitely bigger than your bark if that's all you got."

"We can test that theory…" he told her before leaning down and kissing her passionately as the water soaked the both of them.

Pushing him back, she said, "What did I hear about saving time? Something like it being five o'clock?"

Holding his hands up, he said, "Alright, alright, I'll try to keep my hands from…venturing too low."

She handed him the soap, saying, "By all means, venture, just don't take forever." At seeing his shocked face, she turned back around to face the spray, smiling to herself.

Another half an hour wasted, well, not wasted, before they even began getting ready for the day. She was pulling on her sweats for her early morning gym date while he was sitting on the bed, slipping on his shoes at the same time tying his tie.

Pulling her hair up, something she rarely did unless she was about to workout or clean, she said, "How is work going? Besides the whole undercover thing, I don't even know what you're up to."

"The Lieu, she assigned all of Detective Sullivan's open cases to me and Logan. So, that's what we're trying to work on. It doesn't help that I uncovered a serial rapist, murderer, while looking through his files."

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she told him, "Is that who the Lindsey girl was you took off the other night to talk to?"

Blinking back, he seemed surprised that she knew about that. "You heard that? I didn't know you were awake."

"I wasn't; you woke me." Going over to him, she smiled down at him as she took his face into her hands and gave him a kiss. "Don't worry about it."

"About what? Waking you or running out to talk to a woman in the middle of the night?"

Taking in his concerned, uncertain eyes, she reassured him, "Both. I trust you." At seeing the uncertainty still present, she grew worried. "You don't think I trust you?" He looked away from her and she felt like slapping him, just to knock some sense into him. Crossing her arms, she said, "Bobby…"

"You actually don't think we would have lasted if we became parents?"

She wasn't expecting him to ask that, or even voice his concern so quickly, but if he was asking it, then she knew he must have been thinking about it all night long. Alex took a moment to mull that over as she continued to watch him. He was fidgeting, twisting his fingers together as he kept his eyes locked with hers. "Bobby," she said, breathing out, "finish getting dressed and meet me in the kitchen. We need to talk."

His eyes grew more serious and worried as he stood, tucked in his shirt, and then zipped his pants up. Turning around, she headed out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Steadying her breathing as she made the walk through the apartment, she hoped everything would be okay after this morning. She stopped as she went to pass the front door and instead, opened it and pushed the outer door open to grab the paper on the stoop, and then check the mail.

She knew he always got the mail, but he had forgotten yesterday. Putting the envelopes and the new edition of the Smithsonian magazine into the folded paper, she took them into the kitchen and tossed the pile on the table as she passed it. The coffee was already made. So, that was what Bobby was doing before she called him to the bathroom.

He was right behind her as she felt him move up behind her and take down a cup over her head. Taking the coffee pot in hand, she poured some into his cup, leaving room for cream.

"Thanks," he told her softly but he didn't move to go to the refrigerator, or the table, or anywhere else.

He stayed right behind her as he rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently as he kissed her ear before telling her, "I'm not doubting you, Alex. It…Last night, you seemed more concerned with us…What would happen to us if…It got me doubting my-myself. What you told me, it reassured me, but…I still see some doubt in you. I don't know why it's there…What it means, for us."

That broke her; setting the cup down on the counter, Alex turned to him and saw the painful look in his eyes. Pushing up on her toes, she kissed him, silently apologizing for being part of the reason why those doubts were troubling him, before saying, "Neither one of us were ready to face last night, Bobby. Neither one of us were ready to have to confront not only that part of ourselves but that part of our relationship. It wasn't the right time. But…When will it _ever_ be the right time? Never. Things happen…Life happens, and just maybe last night needed to happen."

Bobby stared down at her and gave a brief nod as he closed his eyes. "That's…I know, that. I know that it had to happen, I'm just concerned with the aftermath of-of, of…_that_. I was solely focused on the kind of father I would make, but us? Alex, when it came to the thought of us…yeah, more complicated, but never in my mind did I think that you would leave. That we wouldn't survive the struggle. I believe in you, I believe in you-your, your strength and ability to stick it out with me. Then…The only question you had was…was, would we last?" he asked, confused and heartbroken.

The tears stung her eyes as she those words hit her. "God, Bobby, I never…" she pulled him down to her and held him as she told him, "I didn't doubt you either. I kept thinking that you would be scared and for a little while distant, but never did I question whether or not you would stay."

"Then why question us at all," he asked into her neck as her body shook.

She knew that this would have to be brought up and it was one of the reasons why she didn't want to have the talk about it when she was so vulnerable. With clothes on she felt slightly more in control. Letting him pull away, she picked up her cup, took a drink to calm herself some more, and to try to ease the headache that started, before saying, "It…" taking a breath, she tried for a reassuring smile but failed, "It wasn't the first time."

Bobby looked like she had lost him before it hit him, and then he looked ready to collapse, or explode, sometimes it was hard for her to tell the difference his mood changed so quickly. "What?"

"Not with you!" she hurriedly told him, trying to keep him from exploding now that she knew that was his response. "With Joe. It happened with him."

At that, he still didn't calm down, but he did look relieved. Looking to the floor, he took a breath before looking back up at her, asking, "Joe? I thought…I thought you two…that, kids were, uh, were something you both agreed on?"

"I never said that," she hasty let out before sighing in frustration and rubbing her head. The headache wasn't going away. She watched him before she couldn't any longer. Going over to the table, she sat down and readied herself to have this out with him before she lost her nerve.

Bobby stood where he was, but was staring at the floor as he rubbed at his head. "Okay…So, so…" he dropped his hand from his head and faced her. "He flipped out, or…you fought?"

"He wasn't the one who flipped," she hesitantly told him.

Studying her eyes, he nodded slightly and then shook his head. Alex was quiet as she saw him thinking it over, putting what she had said not only just now but last night together, and then realization hit him like she knew it would. "It wasn't me you were doubting, was it? You were doubting yourself."

Alex was actually glad he had the mind he did. Voicing that, that one fear she had, it was the hardest thing she could have ever admitted not only to herself but to him. She never saw herself as the parenting type. Her nieces had always been great; she loved being an Aunt, but at the end of the day or weekend, they could go back home. Then, with being a surrogate for Liz, the experience of carrying a child and giving birth, of having to give Nathan away, and now the connection she had with him…It had really made her question that part of herself, but the fear still remained. The insecurities of being a good mother were still there. "You're not the only one questioning their ability to be a parent, Bobby."

He pulled out a chair and sat down next to her. Taking her hands in his, he gave them a kiss before kissing her on her lips. "That's why you were so…uh, eager, in knowing my opinion on pregnancy, right? On, options a person has to think about, consider…You had to face that?"

Nodding slightly, she informed him, "It never got that far, I wasn't pregnant, but…like I said, life happens. Me and Joe, no matter how much in love we were, neither one of us were ready for parenthood even though he was so adamant about it. He could barely take care of himself…Working narcotics," looking at him, she said, "you know all about that kind of police work."

"Dangerous…fatal," he said as he looked to the floor. "You were working vice, just as dangerous. The hours, the people, the life…" Bobby returned his eyes to hers and smiled slightly. "Nothing's changed. We're still cops."

"Right, and I still think no possible way, but…" she wiped a tear away. "Why the hell not?" Smiling a little, and feeling embarrassed about admitting all of that, she shook her head and laughed at herself. "I'm a mess."

Bobby took her hand back, stilling her movements, as he got her attention. "You're normal. Our fears, they're normal. I think people who actually don't freak out at the thought of…of being parents are the ones who are truly crazy. I was with a woman once who said she wanted a huge family, like ten kids…We didn't last long," he shamefully told her.

"I don't blame you," she told him as she shook her head. "I couldn't do ten. I would like to think two's my limit, but I'll prefer one if any."

Bobby chuckled and leaned into her. "You're my kind of woman," he said, kissing her. Then he asked, "Okay, one crisis out of the way." Holding her eyes, he said, "Now, what is it about my job that's worrying you?"

Breathing out, she hated his powers of deduction and reasoning as he asked that. "Okay, well, see…" Alex looked to the table and told him as calmly, and tentatively as possible, "I found that I couldn't just stand on the sidelines."

He was so silent Alex had to look at him. When she did, she saw the cool panic in his eyes as he stilled. Blinking back, he sat back in the chair and asked, "What'd you do?"

Alex couldn't look him in the eyes as she closed them, saying, "Garrison and I had a talk…"

"Alex!" he yelled as he stood and paced the floor. "I told you to leave it alone!"

"And I told you I couldn't do that."

"You promised me!" he protested angrily as he stopped pacing and stood with his hands on his hips.

Alex knew well enough now from past arguments with him that the best way to get him to calm down was to remain calm herself. If she let her own anger get the best of her it would turn into an all out war. "I know I did, and I'm sorry about that, but then I thought I was going to have your child and then the need to want to make sure you didn't die before our child was born pretty much threw that promise right out the window."

Bobby was still eyeing her but she could tell she hit the right spot with that as he flinched and then dropped his head. He rubbed at his face, then asked, "What did he say?"

"He asked me to leave you."

His head snapped up at that.

"I told him to basically go to hell." Alex saw the slight smile pull at his lips as she said that. "He told me that I should consider it because it's going to get more dangerous from here on out. Then, I told him if I left you that you would self-destruct and possibly abandon the operation if it was going to cost you me."

Nodding a little more, he crossed his arms and waited. He knew there was more.

Alex took a breath before telling him, "After we had our little disagreement, he kicked me out of his office."

"So, that's it? You confronted him, you had words, and then…Nothing happened? Nothing came of it? So, why…"

Looking away again, she let the other shoe drop. "As I left, I saw another detective across the street. He was getting into a car, and I don't know if he saw me or not." She looked at him to see the curiosity and fear mixing in his eyes. "It was Rivers."

His eyes closed at that, then he bit his bottom lip. Alex knew what that meant. Bobby was trying to hold it in. His jaw locked so tight she was afraid he wouldn't be able to open it again.

"Bobby…"

"It's okay," he got out of his tight throat. His voice sounded rough, thick, and he had to clear his throat before he spoke again. Looking to the floor, Bobby nodded once and then turned around, leaving the kitchen. "I'll figure it out."

"Bobby," she tried again but she knew he wasn't going to say anything else to her right then. If he did, he would regret it.

TBC…


	28. Only the drowning part

A/N: Wow, talk about a writer's block. It's frustrating how some chapters just come and its there and it's such a relief to get it out. Then there are chapters like this one where it's a struggle; I've been in a boxing ring for a month trying to knock this thing out, I'm exhausted! I'm such a perfectionist; I'm never satisfied with anything. Anyway, I apologize, and I'll try to get a few more out in the coming days (weeks?) to make up for my lack in updating.

Enjoy!

* * *

On his way into work, he made two phone calls. The first man he called was Logan. His partner didn't answer the phone and not wanting to leave a message he hung up before it reached voicemail. Mike was probably on the ferry or eating breakfast somewhere anyway. Garrison was the second man he talked to, and after their very heated twenty-minute debate, and a plan devised, they hung up. To Bobby's liking, it was the plan he had been conceiving ever since Alex informed him of confronting Garrison yesterday.

He had given it a lot of thought while getting ready for work and for part of the commute to Staten Island; he realized that what Alex did and what could come from it-if he played it right-might actually benefit the operation. He was still angry with her for not letting it go, for seeking out Garrison, but he understood why she thought she had to do it. At least he thought he understood. What she had mentioned, about her fearing that he would die, had bothered him for most of the morning. That had been the reason she had given him. He realized sadly, while maneuvering through traffic on the way to work, that her fear stemmed from something that he wasn't even sure Alex was aware existed.

It was going to have to be something they would need to discuss, but right then he had other things to on his mind. As he entered the building, he pulled his sunglasses off and stuffed them into his coat pocket. It was actually feeling slightly warmer outside and it was supposed to get warmer as the week continued. He knew it was a tease; it wasn't even January yet and once this front moved on, the snow and cold would be back. Heading straight into the locker room he saw it empty. Checking the time on his watch, he had about ten minutes until Rivers and Jackson got through with their early morning one-on-one game at the gym next door.

Opening his locker, he pulled off his overcoat and laid it over the bench then took out the bottle of pills that was in its pocket. Empting it down to one pill, he tossed the rest in the toilet and flushed them before putting the bottle on the top shelf of his locker where it would be easy to spot. Tugging off his tie, he hung it on his locker door and then slid out of his suit jacket and hung it up.

Taking out his gun from the back of his pants, he went through the tedious process of emptying the magazine, counting off ten rounds instead of the maximum requirement of fifteen. He had to change the weight of his weapon a few years ago after his abduction. His left hand still hurt him whenever he wrote excessively, or typed on the computer, or when he drove up to Carmel Ridge. Now with playing basketball more and more for the exercise, it would ache furiously after a game but he wasn't about to let it stop him.

Checking the now empty magazine, he pushed the receiver down a few times to make sure the spring was working properly. Satisfied with it he sat that aside, next to the bullets he had lined up on the bench, and then took out the small bag on the bottom of his locker that held his cleaning supplies. So not to get the oil on his hands, he pulled a pair of latex gloves out of the box that was also at the bottom of the locker, before he started to dismantle the gun. It usually took him less than five minutes, but he wanted to stretch out the time. Therefore, he took his time to go through the process of taking the gun apart by disconnecting the slide, taking out the barrel, and then cleaning it. By the time he was putting it back together, Rivers and Jackson had already shown up and taken showers.

As he was filling the magazine with the ten rounds, he heard Jackson behind him talking to Rivers. They weren't saying anything important, just shooting the shit about the case they had, or Rivers gloating about some girl he got lucky with the night before. Sliding the magazine in place, he tapped it to make sure it was fully in place in the well before releasing the slide stop, making the slide shoot forward and rounding a bullet in the chamber.

"Having fun with your weapon there, Goren? You know that most cops do that at home not in the locker room."

"Don't have time to clean it at home. Besides, I'm usually here most of the time anyway," Bobby softly told them with a hint of an edge to his voice. An edge that he couldn't even pinpoint.

"You okay? Bunk-out here again?"

Shaking his head, he told Jackson, "Got here way too early. Couldn't, um…sleep last night."

"Let me guess," Rivers took a shot at him, "Women troubles."

Glancing around to stare at the cop, Bobby shot back "Why don't you mind your business. And the only one here with women troubles is you."

Rivers looked like he wanted to jump on him for that but before he could get a word in Jackson pushed him back slightly and shook his head.

Bobby watched the exchange between partners and knew immediately why Rivers wanted to hassle him. Rivers wanted to tell him about Alex and IA, or at least hint about it. Getting up, he put the gun back in its holster then secured it to his belt. He took out his suit jacket and pulled it on before grabbing his tie off the door. Feeling someone move up behind him, he turned and saw Jackson's' worried eyes watching him.

"You doing okay?" Jackson asked before looking at something in his locker.

Following his eyes, Bobby saw what he was suggesting. The answer to why Jackson had asked him that. Smiling slightly to his self for the show he was successfully putting on, he took down the nearly empty prescription bottle, excluding the one pill, and sighed heavily as he opened it and dropped it into his hand. "Fine. How're you?" he asked before popping it into his mouth.

"C'mon, Bobby, things with you right now aren't fine."

It didn't go unnoticed that Jackson had used his first name; it would be the first time but not the last. Bobby eyed the detective for a long moment before glancing to Rivers. The young cop was avoiding him at all cost as he combed his damp hair. "What's that supposed to mean," he asked Jackson.

At sensing the sudden hostility, Jackson put his hands up and tried to calm him down. "I'm only making an observation. You seem off. Did you just say that you couldn't sleep? You're practically living out of your locker."

Staring hard at the guy, he took a breath before shifting his eyes to the floor and rubbing at his head. "Been a long week, nothing new. You guys know about the serial I'm working. Starting to get…uh, heated, you know?"

Rivers spoke softly to himself, muttering under his breath, "Not the only thing getting heated."

Bobby saw the looks exchanged between Rivers and Jackson; addressing the younger of the two, he asked Rivers, "What-…You want to something, Jimmy? How about you be a man and say it to my face." He knew that would hit the mark and as he saw the heat rise on Rivers face, he knew he had the guy.

Rivers shot a hesitant look to Jackson before telling him, "We saw your girl yesterday, coming out of IA."

Bobby acted surprised as he shot them both a burning glare. "You-…you saw? Wha-what, you're following her around now?"

"We weren't following anybody," Jackson retorted a little too defensively. That got Bobby's curiosity and now he was wondering if they had, in fact, followed her. "We were across the street, just happened to be there to see her come out. That's all."

Looking both men over acting like he didn't know whether to hit them or just walk out, he sighed, "Fuck," before explaining, "They were trying to scare her, get to her…" he shook his head before telling them. "It was nothing serious; they brought her in on the pretense of the Connelly case and by the end of it…Well, whatever they told her, I got to endure her wrath last night for it."

"She cocked blocked you," Rivers teased.

Bobby started for him when Jackson grabbed his arm, but Rivers recoiled from his glare and went back to getting ready for work.

"She believe them?" Jackson asked as he let go to grab his suit jacket off the bench and slip it around his broad shoulders.

"No," he answered as he turned around slowly and worked at tying his tie, letting River's cheap shot at him go. "She was just pissed that I'm giving them fire to play with and it's starting to burn her."

"Yeah," Jackson said, sounding as if he agreed with Alex. "Maybe you should try to tame that fire before it starts spreading further than that."

Bobby eyed Jackson over his shoulder trying to get a read on the man. Picking the empty prescription bottle off the bench where he sat it down, he handed it to Jackson. Giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder, he told him, "You're right. No more, for now. If IA is gonna keep digging, then I don't want anything to come back on you."

Jackson took the bottle and tossed it into his locker. "Appreciate it. So," he said, getting pass what he just been discussed between the three of them. "You playin' with the Narc's now? We no longer good enough for you?"

Bobby laughed a little as he shut his locker door. Snapping the lock on, he answered, "They handpicked me, said you two were too slow to keep up with them."

"Hey!" Rivers protested. "I'm faster than you are."

As Bobby walked passed him, he shot back, "But you're too busy trying to look pretty all the time to actually do any good, and Slug," he addressed Jackson, "they said if you need help, raising money for your back surgery, they'll throw a fundraiser."

Both men were spouting shit to his back as he left the locker room. He almost didn't see Mike strolling by on his way to the stairs as he went to shout back through the closing door. "Hey, Logan!" he called instead as he took off for his partner. "Wait up!"

Logan turned midway up the steps. The look in his eyes stilled him as he came up beside him. People were passing them, bumping into his back as he tried to figure out why Mike looked seconds away from decking him right there; laying him out on the stairs with cops, witnesses, and civilian employees passing by.

"Now you show."

Bobby looked around, taking in the lobby area as he asked, confused, "We work here. Where else would-"

"I'm not talking about now," he said as he stepped up to him. Logan dropped his voice as he asked, "Where were you yesterday? You know, you try to take control of this thing, telling me to back off, yet you can't even show up to talk about it."

Bobby suddenly realized what Logan was confronting him about as he pulled his cell from his pocket and checked the missed calls from yesterday. They were the calls he had ignored while trying to track down information on Michelle Costello.

"Do you even realize how fucking angry Garrison is right now? First your girlfriend shows up making all kinds of demands and then you-"

"Logan, I didn't know...I was working our case."

"Without me," Logan snapped, cutting him off.

"You weren't here, and Gonzalez worked the first-"

Logan held up his hand, saying, "I'm not interested in excuses, Goren. For someone that's not only supposed to be my partner, and friend, you have a fucked up way of showing it."

Bobby had nothing to say to that; he knew that he deserved it, at least part of it. He had been so caught up in finally getting somewhere, gaining ground on the serial case that he didn't care about going to the meeting. What he had told Logan was what had to happen; in his mind, it was already done. If Garrison wanted to argue over specifics then he would have to do it without him there. Besides, if Garrison were really that pissed with him he would have brought it up while they talked earlier. However, Garrison was so focused and raging about Alex's involvement than anything else. Heading up to the third floor, he tried to put the blowup from Logan behind him. It was a losing battle; Mike was ignoring him all morning, adding to his already disturbed and dark mood.

Midway through the morning, he got tired of the busy squad room and a silent partner so he took all the case files pertaining to the serial case and bunkered himself down in an interview/interrogation room. With a roll of tape and a couple of markers, he quickly got to work. It took him close to an hour to arrange the photos on the walls like he wanted them and to write out on a white board everything he knew about the case, the man he thought-or rather knew but couldn't prove-was the killer, and about all the victims.

As he stared at the photos and his profile on the board, the more discouraged he felt. It wasn't the first time that the thought that maybe the only way to get Paul Savoie for the murders was to get the man to confess. With the lack of physical evidence, that was the only thing he had in his arsenal to use against the mob boss, his ability to get inside his head and hopefully trick him into bearing his soul.

Breathing out in a sense of defeat that maybe he wouldn't be able to trick up the stoic, unemotional, Don of the Italian Mafia, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Some people, he knew, could not be broken. Bobby was certain that if he was on the other side of the table, and he didn't want to confess, no one on earth, not even Alex, could get him to talk. Not that something like that would ever happen, it was just a thought. It was a reminder to him that some people had no desire to cleanse their soul.

Some had no soul to cleanse. No remorse, not guilt. However, they did have pride, a sense of accomplishment, or being powerful, invincible, and that nothing to get to them or stop them. That was Paul Savioe. He had broken men like him before, like Jay Lippman. There had been no physical evidence to connect Lippman to the murders of two women that occurred decades before he and Eames were even assigned to the case. The only thing he had to work with was his profile, the behavior of the man, and the near rape of Rick Morrissey's sister. With only the account of the assault that had taken place in college dorm room in the late 80's and the crime scene photos of the two victims, he had destroyed Jay Lippman in the interrogation room. He had reduced the man to a sobbing mess of tears and anguish by the time he was done with him.

He couldn't see Savoie crying over anything. Not even a decapitated limb. This self-doubt was getting him nowhere. Needing to get his head out of the darkness that had settled in, he reached into the jacket pocket that he hadn't shoved his tie into and pulled out his cell phone.

After two rings, she answered, "Eames."

Hesitating, but only for a moment, he smiled as he said, "Hey, it's me."

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "Hey you, I was just thinking about you."

"Really?" Bobby asked as he continued to look over his notes on the board and the photos around the room. "Should I be worried?"

"Maybe," she teased. "So, what can I do you for, Goren?"

Knowing she was likely at 1PP, he didn't think too much about her calling him by his last name. He still found himself using her last name occasionally, old habit and all. "I need to think and you're my best, and favorite, sounding board. I figured if we start talking it would, I don't know, knock something loose."

"I'm game. Anything particular you want to talk about?"

"Actually, I have few questions about your old case. The Connelly case."

Alex was quiet for a moment and he was afraid she might have changed her mind until he heard a door close in the background. Once it was quiet, she said, "I'll do my best but you know it's no longer my case."

"I know, but since giving it up there's been some questions that I can't stop thinking about. Was, um…was Sullivan's DNA tested against the sample we got off the glasses?"

"First thing I did after Sullivan wrote his bogus suicide note. However, no such luck; the DNA came back inconclusive."

"Inconclusive? Did, was the comparison done at the lab at 1PP or here, in Staten Island?"

Taking a moment to think about it, she answered, "There. It was quicker."

Bobby rubbed at his head and sighed. If the DNA was tested in the Staten Island lab then one of the corrupted lab techs could have handled it. No matter the results it would have came back inconclusive. "Okay, uh…I've been working a theory."

"Oh Lord," she groaned but he knew she was teasing him again.

Laughing a little, he opened his binder and pulled out the list of names he kept in it and looked it over. "Did you question Officer Brian Gabriele?"

"Yes, he was one of the patrols I talked to, and he was my first suspect. I still think he was the one to stage the scene."

That was his Eames. Smiling, he told her, "I agree. Officer Gabriele, he staged the scene at the Connelly's with a little help from his female partner. She gave him the lipstick to use."

"Clever boy, cheap girl. Too bad none of this can be proven."

_Amelia Ramirez had a fur coat, the prostitute Natalie had a fur coat, but Lindsey didn't. Were the fur coats connected? Did Savoie give them the coats or someone else entirely?_

Bobby shook his head. Why was he thinking about fur coats? Dropping the list back into his binder, he rubbed at the stubble on his jaw as he studied the pictures of the victims. All of them looked the same. They all wore the black dress, white pearls, and black high-heels. Red nail polish…

_Why red? _"Would you wear red nail polish with a black dress and white pearls?"

Alex was silent for a moment and he could imagine the confused look on her face as he heard her sigh. Then, she said, "What color shoes?"

"Black. All black, everything, even the stockings. Only thing not black are the pearls."

"Hun-huh, yeah I got that. What about my coat?"

Bobby looked at the pictures and shook his head. "No coat."

"No coat? It's the dead of winter. Anyway, I might wear red polish if it went with my accessories. Like if my coat was red, scarf, something, just to add color. Oh, and red lipstick."

Taking in the women, he felt his head tilt as the thought hit him. _Not a tie or a man's scarf…The killer didn't bring the red silk fabric because he took it from the victims…No, only from the first victim. _Looking at the pictures of Michelle Costello, he stood as he thought about why all the women looked the same. Why Savoie made all them wear the exact same outfit. Why it started with Michelle.

_It started with her because she was the original. What if Michelle hadn't been ordered to wear the black dress and pearls…If that had been what she'd been wearing to begin with then that means every woman after her was a representation of her…What was it about that woman that made Savoie base all his other kills off her? The killer took the red silk fabric from Michelle, strangled her with it, and kept it as a souvenir. Kept it as the murder weapon. _

His profile was wrong.

"I gotta go," he rushed into the phone before snapping it shut and tossing it on the table.

The killer hadn't been a missionary turned hedonistic. Paul Savioe transformed those girls into Michelle Costello all the way down to the red nail polish on their hands and toes; the only thing missing from every one of them was the red silk fabric…a scarf or shawl that he used to strangle them. The same fabric he took off the first victims' body.

If he could figure out what that was…The importance of it then maybe-

"Goren, phone call."

"Not now," he told whoever it was at the door. "I'm working."

"He said it was important."

Bobby nearly clenched his jaw shut as he turned and glared at the cop. "Take a message, I'm busy."

The cop sighed and shook his head before leaving.

Turning back to the board, the grabbed an eraser and cleared the profile he had written and began a new one. A couple minutes later, he heard his cell phone vibrate on the table. Sighing in annoyance, he flipped his phone open. "Goren," he snapped as he turned back to continue his work.

"Bad time?"

Bobby stilled at the voice as he tried to figure out who had called him. He couldn't place the voice. "Who-"

"Stapleton, your friendly neighborhood Narc."

"Oh, right, what's going on?" Bobby asked as he stared that the white board.

"Nothing, just called to let you know to meet a little early at the gym."

An hour earlier, that'd be five o'clock. "If I can," he told the Narcotics detective as he made a mental note of five at the gym. "Kind of busy here in homicide. Staten Island is threatening to break records this year with dead bodies."

"Good one; hey, I mean it though. Be there at five, I want to have a little meeting before our game."

Knowing he couldn't tell the guy 'no', Bobby resigned himself that he had to play ball with these guys, and he wasn't talking about the kind on the basketball court. "Yeah, okay, I'll be there. Anything else?"

"No, I think…oh, wait, you're a lefty right?"

Bobby had no idea what that had to do with anything, but he answered, "Yeah, what-"

"That's all, see you at five."

The call ended and Bobby closed his eyes along with the phone. Now what?

Once he was done reconstructing his profile, he decided it was time to eat something. Normally Eames would have covered that for him, picking him up something when she went out to grab a bite, now he had no such luck. Logan was a good partner, but he didn't expect the guy to get him food or anything. There were some things men didn't do for each other, and picking up lunch orders wasn't one of them unless it was a huge favor or you paid them to do it.

Pulling his tie around his neck, he quickly tied it before gathering his notes into his binder. Looking around the room, he started to take down the photos and put them in the correct folders. Then he jotted down his new profile on a blank page in his binder before erasing it off the board.

By the time he left the room to go to lunch, it was nearly two in the afternoon. Logan was working the phone as he approached the desk. Sitting on Mike's desk was a half-eaten sub sandwich from the deli a few blocks over. And just as he suspected there wasn't anything on his desk even though Logan knew exactly what he ordered from the same deli. He never strayed from his Italian sub with extra pastrami and medium coke.

Grabbing his overcoat, he headed out wondering if he would ever again have a partnership that satisfied him as much as the one he had with Eames. He highly doubted it.

* * *

He couldn't stop thinking about what happened that afternoon. There was no reason for him to be lagging in his investigation. No reason for him to realize now that his original profile of his serial killer was wrong. He felt as if he was dropping the ball at work, like he wasn't all there half the time and that was unnerving him.

Stapleton passed him the ball and he took a jump shot a few inches from the three-point line and sunk a 2-pointer easily. And now he was having a warm-up session with the Narcotics detectives with his head half in the moment and half in his head. At least he hadn't let it show. He could play ball in his sleep and be decent enough to not draw attention to himself. Taking a breather, he walked over to the bleachers and picked up his bottle of Gatorade.

There was no need to overdo it during warm-ups so he sat down and watched the detectives he would be playing with against his old squad in an hour. As he watched, his let his mind work over the troubling thoughts that plagued it. It was taking him longer than usual to get a firm grasp on this serial case. Longer than usual to work out the profile, to connect the evidence to the mind of the killer, and he was taking longer in getting any actual work done.

He remembered telling Logan early on that he didn't think they would solve the serial before New Year's, and he was proven right. Friday was New Year's Eve and they weren't anywhere after a months worth of investigation. He knew that some crimes took longer than others to solve, and that some crimes couldn't be solved, but he didn't want this serial to slip through his fingers. If he couldn't break Savoie in the interrogation room then the only way to get him was to catch him in the act.

However, he couldn't do that as long as he was undercover…Dropping his head, he rubbed at his eyes as that hit him all over again. There was no way he could get Paul Savoie without isolating himself from the group of men he was infiltrating in order to take down. He couldn't take Paul Savoie down without risking exposing himself…Fucking Catch 22. He couldn't risk doing anything without implicating himself.

That still didn't explain why he was lagging at work. What had changed? Alex. She had reentered his life, and now he was in a relationship that demanded his presence. He started to leave work earlier than usual, take days off that he would normally had worked, and he no longer had her working obsessively next to him. She was no longer there to do the dance with the brass and ADA, to file the paperwork, to handle the tedious police work that he hated in order to let him think and research and do what he did best: profile. Logan was no better at the paperwork than he was. They both hated all the forms they had to deal with through the day along with the daily reports and trying to keep the Lieu happy.

His work routine was spiraling out of control like everything else. Bobby didn't know how to deal with that and why now it was suddenly affecting him so much. It had to be the accumulation of everything else on top of that, the stress of the IA operation, and the stress of change in both his professional and private life, and the changing currents within his self because of it all. He couldn't believe he was actually feeling like he needed to blame Alex for his poor work performance. That was completely unfair to her. She didn't do anything.

It was him. He was the one letting it get personal. He was the one letting his personal life dictate his professional life. He was the one taking half days, or days off, and leaving early while trying to be a better intimate partner to Alex. He was the one who was always comparing Logan to Eames and getting miserable because of it.

_Yearning_…He was missing his partner. But he had her, so what was he missing? Bobby realized he wasn't missing her intimately, not as a girlfriend and the woman who loved him, but he was missing her professionally. He needed her as the detective who worked beside him every day. He wanted and needed her, not Logan or anyone else. And for some reason that sense of dependence made his stomach churn and head hurt. It made his hands ball into fists and he felt like hitting something. The last time he felt that was when he had worked with Bishop and all he could do was ball up a piece of paper and throw it at her chair.

In that moment, he remembered hating his dependence on her. He hated it that she was gone, that she had left him. Even though they were together outside of work, he still couldn't help but resent her for not being with him at work. He actually remembered feeling jealous. Him, jealous, of the baby growing inside of her because it was the reason she had to leave. The reason he was stuck with that woman who couldn't even come close to Eames in understanding him.

God, he was a narcissist because that was a very self-centered thing to think. He didn't just think it; he felt it and he got angry because of it.

He had never been that dependent on a partner before. Not once. In Narcotics, he had been fine; granted, he had trouble working with the men he'd been partnered with, but he never failed to do his job. He never lacked in his abilities, and most of the time working alone served in his best interest.

So why did Eames change all of that? Why couldn't he function properly without her? What had changed? There was no answer for that because he didn't have one. It wasn't because he loved her, that wasn't the reason. It was something about the way she worked with him that fitted him so perfectly. Something that made him addicted to it, to her, and unfocused when she wasn't there.

He heard some shouting on the court and looked up to see two of detectives, Stapleton and a guy he was introduced to named Fox, shoving each other around. As he watched the Narcotic detectives, took in their appearance and their demeanors, he was reminded of how he used to be working that same job. It occurred to him that what Eames had changed in him was what he was seeing on that basketball court.

When he worked Narcotics, he had been more aggressive, more uncontrollable, stubborn, uncooperative, 'his way or the highway' approach to just about everything, and he had pissed many people off. Hence the reason he worked alone most of the time. He couldn't take the politics of the job so he ignored it and that pissed a lot of brass off and his bosses off. He hated the paperwork so they put him undercover, which suited him just fine seeing how he was the master at it.

Bobby realized that the four years he spent as a Narc he had been dealt with best by the department because they either ignored him, given into him, or put him out of mind by putting him undercover. Then, with being promoted to Major Case, the brass had to deal with him more closely so that meant making sure he had a partner that could control him. Therefore, instead of a man, they put him with a woman, his first female partner ever.

He had never worked with a woman before, especially one that was his senior; even in the Army he was surrounded by men because their wasn't a single female in their unit. With CID there were a couple of female employees, but he barely saw them unless they had a female suspect or witness, then they had to call one of them to sit in on the interview or search the woman suspect.

Back to Alex, and his time spent with her as his partner. In all that time, what had Eames done? She had taken that erratic, stubborn, arrogant, aggressive Narcotics detective and settled him. She made him able to focus his mind and his thoughts on the important work, the profiling and the evidence, while she dealt with the brass and nearly everything else. Now, with Logan, he was back to being that lone wolf. The guy who couldn't deal with the Lieu and the paperwork and the ADA and the everything else. And on top of it all, he had the undercover operation.

He was killing himself. That was what was happening. He was slowly killing himself by burying himself with every aspect of the job. He was taking it all on himself, not even letting Logan help him out because, lets face it, Logan was a man. Despite the fact that he was starting to be a friend, he couldn't let Mike help him with everything. When Mike did help, he felt ashamed, and angry. It unnerved him and it caused him to question how much trust he was really giving Logan.

Bobby had told Logan he trusted him with everything in the operation, but was that the truth? He wasn't sure, but it felt like the right thing to say to his partner. Logan was brought in because he had asked, and now he was pushing him out because he felt it was for the best. When he did it, he thought it was because it was the best way to go forth, the best way to protect them both. Now he was thinking maybe that was just the lie he told himself because he couldn't admit that it was because he didn't trust Logan as much as he thought he did.

Then to have Logan go off on him that morning, it just proved to him that maybe they weren't as good as partners as he thought they were.

He was so fucked up.

Shaking his head at him, he decided that maybe he and Logan needed to get a drink and have a thorough discussion on their partnership before it became irreparable.

"You awake, Bobby?"

Bobby gave a nod as he sat his drink down and stood. Catching the ball that Fox tossed to him, he bounced it around a couple of times before taking a shot from outside the three-point line. It hit the rim and bounced away. Not surprised he shrugged a little, "I play better inside the paint."

Stapleton laughed. "You got that right, brother." He gave him a look before saying, "That job I asked you to do with us, it's Friday."

He stilled as the eyed the cop before shaking his head. "I can't do Friday.'

"Whatever you've got planned, you need to change it."

Bobby rested his hands on his knees as he thought about that. It wasn't necessary a threat, but they weren't talking about some dinner invite. They were talking about an illegal drug bust. "Why did you need to know if I was a lefty or not?"

"I had to make sure I got you the correct leg holster."

"Leg holster? For what?"

Stapleton smiled a little and Bobby wanted to pound his fist right into it. "Because, we're going be on a boat. Hope you're not afraid of water," he said with a wink and laugh.

Bobby shook his head as he paled slightly. "Only the drowning part."

The game had been very uneventful since he and Copeland were on better terms. They had playfully pushed and shoved each other around, but it hadn't come to blows like the last time. In fact, the only people Bobby seemed to have trouble with on the court were the guys from his old squad. Copeland had pulled him aside during a break and told him why he was getting some hostility from the detectives. He said that they were all thinking what everyone in the department was thinking, that he had turned. It didn't help that he was playing with the Narcotics guys.

He figured something like this would eventually happen, but he just hoped it stayed on the court. The last thing he wanted, or needed, was this to start effecting Alex. So before Copeland took off back over to his team, he told him, "Don't leave Eames out there alone with those guys, especially if you notice anything said or done."

"You got my word, Goren. She's in good hands."

Bobby watched as the tall, dark detective hurried away and he felt strangely satisfied yet troubled by that. Shaking his sudden spur of jealously away, he took the ball out and started the game again with a half court throw inbounds to Fox who passed it to Stapleton who put it up for a non-contested 3 point shot. Nothing but net and they went up by six.

Major Case actually gave them the run for their money with two minutes left in the game. With a fouled three point shot from Young on Andrews, MCS tied then went up by one. Then with a stolen ball with a minute five to play, Copeland took it to the hoop and actually dunked it on him. Major Case was up by three and he was starting to hurt, badly. His hand was killing him, his knee was on fire, and if his chest didn't stop hurting he thought he was going to hyperventilate. Either he needed to stop smoking, or he was getting too old for this. As he passed the ball inbounds to Stapleton, he knew it was both.

The moment he stepped under the hoop, Stapleton bounced the ball to him and he turned, taking it to the rim and barely getting it over Copeland's reach and into the basket. Down by one, he tried to deflect the inbound pass from Copeland to Matthews but the ball only skimmed his fingertips and went right into Matthews awaiting hands. Sprinting down the court, trying to keep up with Copeland, he felt a jolt of pain through his right leg and then the moment he pushed off it to block the ball. Swatting the ball away from the backboard, he landed on his left leg and nearly tumbled to the court when he put down his right.

"Bobby, you alright?" Copeland asked as he limped around to get the ball that ended up in the bleachers.

Trying not to let the pain show, he nodded as he grabbed the ball and bounced it around as he stepped up to the line. "Just a cramp. I'm good."

"Maybe you should take a-"

Shaking his head, he said, "We have less than a minute to play. I'll manage."

"Hey, Goren, everything good," Stapleton asked as he stepped over to them.

Nodding he said, "Ready? Let's get this game over with, I'm starving." Throwing the ball in, he watched as Stapleton took it down the court, passed it to Fox who tossed it up for a two-pointer. It hit the rim, bounced up into the backboard and came down through the hoop.

They were back to being one up but there was still plenty of time on the clock for MCS to put a basket in to win it. With time running down, Copeland passed it over his head to Andrews down the court. Bobby tried to make a mad dash to the basket in hopes of getting a rebound but his leg was killing him, and truth be told, he could careless if they won or not. Being only pass half court before Andrews passed it to Copeland, he watched as the guy pounded it through the hoop just as the buzzer sounded.

Great, they lost on a Copeland dunk. Now he could get the hell out of there. He needed to wrap his knees, put some ice on it, and get a brace…

"Need a cane, Bobby," Matthews from Major Case called out.

"Fuck you," he threw back half-heartedly, but he knew Matthews meant what he had said. The prick.

"Hey," Copeland said as he came up to him. "Good game. How's the knee really?"

"Feels like someone took a steel pipe to the back of my kneecap. Other than that, it's great." Bobby knew his snide remarks were because of the pain, and not losing the game.

He had lost games before, and his heart was never really in winning them anymore. It was more about the actually playing, the having fun on the court and just being around his colleagues instead of being shut out from them. He liked playing, hated the competition. That didn't mean that he never did his best or stopped trying; he would always give a hundred percent because that was who he was, but he also knew that winning the games didn't mean anything. Bragging rights? Who cared, not him. What he liked to brag out was taking a criminal down. Having a near perfect solve rate. That was what was important. Getting the bad guy.

Copeland flinched that the snide remark and Bobby felt bad, kind-of. "No need to bite my head off."

"It's…The pain makes me short-tempered, I didn't mean anything by it," he told Copeland as he gathered up his towel and bottle of Gatorade. Taking off the cap, he downed half of it in one go as he started to the locker room. He needed a shower.

Stapleton met him halfway across the court and patted him on the back. "Even though we lost, you can play with us anytime. Are you going to be able to get home okay? Need a lift?"

"Yeah," Andrews called out as he passed them. "To the emergency room."

"No, to the old folks home," piped in Matthews.

Bobby shook his head at the play yard antics but it still got him. "Hey, I don't know what you two are laughing about. Greg," he said to Matthews, "You were slow all game and sat out twice. And Andrews, you were 8 for 20 during the first half; I counted. If you hadn't found your shot after the first half, it would have been over. And you were shooting sixty percent from the free throw line. The only reason you won was because of Copeland."

"You tell them, Bobby," Stapleton urged him on as he shoved him in the shoulder. "Tell these clowns how the real boys do it. Right, Bobby here had 16 assests, count 'em 26 rebounds, and how many points? Something like 20, 21, right? And he made all his free throws!"

"Alright, okay, you're right. Tell you want, how 'bout we give the game to you guys," Andrews said. "Because after all, this is the last game Goren will play. Next week he'll be watching on the sidelines using a walker to hold him up."

Bobby glared at Andrews as he said, "It's only a cramp."

"A cramp my ass, you can't even put weight on it. See," Andrews said just before he shoved him back.

Bobby was able to stop the backward momentum even though the pressure hurt his leg. The shoving didn't go unnoticed and the next thing he knew Stapleton and two other guys, Young and Fox, were all over the Major Case guys. In a matter of seconds an all out brawl erupted on the basketball court two feet from the locker room and all he could do was stand there and try not to fall over.

"Hey!" Copeland's voice boomed off the walls and he stormed out of the locker room and tried to pull the men off each other. "Knock it off! Do you want to be kicked out here! Stop! Everyone back away and stop!"

One by one the shoving and hitting eventually died down but Bobby saw the fire in all their eyes. There was no such thing as brotherly love between these brothers in blue. Nothing but disdain, hate…and a message that was heard loud and clear as if it had been shouted. What he saw in there eyes shook him to his core, especially since some of those looks were directed toward him.

Copeland was still fuming as the detectives filed into the locker room; Major Case guys first and then the Narcotics detectives. Bobby leaned against the wall and closed his eyes while taking a deep breath.

"What was that all about?"

Glancing up at Copeland, Bobby shook his head. "That was about something a whole lot more serious than a basketball game." Rubbing at his knee, he went to straighten off the wall when he heard a woman's voice. It was Alex's voice.

"Since when does a basketball game look like a free for all boxing match?"

Bobby looked over and saw Alex coming into the gym. She looked ready for a night out on the town. "Alex…What-"

Coming up to him, and because he was hunched over rubbing his knee, she was actually able to kiss him without pulling him down or pushing herself up on her tiptoes. The kiss was short but deep and it made everything feel so much better.

"Harry, do you mind?" she said and Copeland raised his hands and with a laugh disappeared into the locker room.

Turning back to him, Bobby saw her concern as she looked to his leg. "Don't worry, Copeland didn't trip me or anything. It's either a really bad cramp or I pulled something that wasn't designed by God to pull."

"Or it could be the ACL in your knee."

"Don't even say that," he nearly shouted. At the smirk on her face, Bobby felt like collapsing to the floor. She definitely knew how to get in a good jab, even better than her Major Case colleagues did. "Very funny, I've been hearing the jokes for the past ten minutes. I see you and think I'll get a kiss, a hug, or something more to ease the pain, but instead what do I get? The-the, uh, the Queen of sarcasm."

"I see you're all good and snippy, so, how much pain are you in?" Alex asked as she went to help him but he straightened up and started to the locker room door.

"I can manage on my own. I don't want the guys to think I'm a puss-a, uh…a wuss."

"Nice save. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Bobby looked down at her then grinned. "Only you, babe. Be out in say, uh…twenty minutes? I'll take you to dinner since you look like you're ready to be swept off your feet."

"Ha, yeah right, not with that knee. I'll be pushing you around in a wheelchair."

"Alex," he groaned as she laughed, and headed into the locker room where no one was joking anymore.

Almost exactly twenty minutes later, he met Alex outside the gym on the sidewalk and wrapped her up in a hug as he pulled her into a longer, deeper kiss than she had given him. He never really cared much for public displays of affection, but with the ache in his knee, it was as good as any pain pill.

"Oh, wow," she said breathlessly once he stepped back, but barely. "That was unexpected."

"You want me to keep them coming?"

"The kissing or the unexpected?"

Smiling down at her teasing eyes, Bobby said, "Both."

"In that case, please and thank you," she told her as she wrapped her arm around his a waist as they started up the street.

Bobby held onto her with his arm around her shoulders as they walked. It was a nice night and there was hardly any wind, which was a plus. As they crossed the street, he asked, "Did you drive?"

"Took the subway. I knew that you drove your car here, so…"

"So, I can drive us home. I like the way you think." As he surveyed the streets they were coming up on, he asked, "Let's see we got a pretty good Italian place coming up. Further down is that place that you like, uh…5th Element."

"I'm not into hula dancers tonight."

Chuckling he agreed. "Yeah, you and me both. Two blocks over is Wu's."

"It's not called Wu's."

"But he owns it. I know it because of him. I always forget the name."

Alex looked up at him. "You've lived here how long?"

"Ever since I was six I've called it Wu's. The man is ninety years old and been there on that block for half that. It's Wu's."

Rolling her eyes at him, they continued on their way. "Hey, let's get a paper. I need more of it to wrap up my dishes."

"What you need is bubble wrap."

"Newspaper is cheaper and I can use it for other things like photos and stuffing down in cups and vases."

"But it's not fun to play with after you're done using it," he said with all the seriousness in the world and for some reason that made her laugh.

Coming upon the corner, Bobby smiled down at the man in a wheelchair with a stack of newspapers on his lap. Giving Tony a handshake like he did every time the passed by, he asked, "Seen anybody committing any crimes lately?"

"My girl Sherry."

"Yeah, what'd she do?"

"Stole my heart. See, right outta my chest," Tony said as he indicated to the scar on his chest.

Bobby laughed even though he had heard the joke several hundred times. "No, Tony, I, uh…I think that's where they put the pacemaker."

"Get outta here with that, I ain't got a pacemaker," Tony griped but he was laughing as well.

"Are you boys through?" Alex asked as she smiled at their behavior.

"Oh, yeah, uh…two papers. She's needs it for packing," Bobby said as he pulled out some money from his wallet. He had lost his money clip somewhere and he yet to find it or buy himself another one.

"I hope you read it before you tear it all up," Tony told her as he lifted two papers off the stack on his lap and handed them to her.

"Oh, don't worry. This guy reads everything."

"Hey, did you know that newspapers, the paper type of paper used to make it is called newsprint, right? Most of that paper's made from recycled newspapers. In one copy of the 'Ledger' I bet there were a hundred copies of the very same paper used to make a brand new edition." Both Alex and Tony stared up at him, shrugging, Bobby said, "What, it's true. And, the, uh, the reason the homeless us newspapers to clean your car windows is because it leaves a streak-free shine. Works better than most cloths."

"Do you clean your windows with newspaper?"

"Sometimes," Bobby said as he looked down at Tony. "I like the environment."

Tony huffed out a laugh and shook his head, "You put it in your shoes too?"

"No, you should do that…deter the odor that's radiating out of them."

"All right, fellas," Alex said interrupting any attempt Tony would have at getting him back. "Knock it off. We got a dinner date." She took him by the arm and said goodnight to Tony.

Bobby gave his friend another handshake before starting across the street. "Be good, man, say hi to Sherry for me."

"You only wish I would."

Turning to look down at her, Bobby said, "Pay no attention to him."

Alex shook her head but she was laughing. "I didn't know you knew 'Big Tony, the paper guy'."

"Yeah, he's a buddy of mine. We go way back."

They decided on the Italian place on the next corner. It was a closer walk to the parking garage where he parked his car. "The knee feeling better?" she asked as they approached the restaurant.

"Yeah, actually, it is. I knew that it was just a pull. I'll put some cream on it, wrap it, and then ice it before I go to bed. In the morning, it'll be like it never happened."

Bobby was surprised that at no time through the dinner and then the drive home that nothing was said about what happened that morning between them. He wasn't in the mood to talk about it, and he was certain if they did start to talk about it, things would get heated. So, for the time being, he was content with just letting it settle down between them. It would come up, eventually, and they would have to talk about it, or maybe even yell a little about it, but not tonight.

He tossed his keys on the table, noticed the five new boxes in his living room, and went right for the couch. Collapsing onto it, he breathed out a sigh of relief to be home. Leaning back, he kicked off his shoes, slid off his suit jacket and then undid his tie and tossed it on the coffee table. Propping his feet up, he closed his eyes and tried to find the will and the energy to get up to take care of his knee.

As he went to stand, Alex came behind the couch and pulled him back down into the cushions from behind.

"Stay right there," she told him as she handed him a cold beer. "I'll get that stuff for your knee."

Bobby sat for a long moment, utterly confused. Taking a sip of the beer, he watched as she came back into the living room and sat on the table next to his feet.

"Okay, mister, off with the pants."

That would have been highly erotic had it not been for the throbbing pain in his knee and the back of his leg. "So, after this Nurse Alex session…do you turn into a dirty nurse?"

"Like Tony told you earlier, you only wish I did."

He couldn't help but laugh as he stood in front of her to take his pants off. Once he tossed them to the side and sat back down, he relaxed back into the cushions and gave her full access to his leg. "Tease."

Alex smiled before she got right down to business. She massaged the cream deep into his skin and muscle surrounding his knee and all down his calf muscle. "Are your quads and hamstring okay?"

"Yeah," he said with a hiss as she touched his sensitive knee with her fingers.

"Maybe you should give your doctor a call?"

"If it gets worse I will. This should work though. I'll tough it out."

Alex shook her head at him but didn't say more about it. Once the cream was all worked into his leg, she started to wrap it with the ace bandage. Taking it from her, he finished it off and held it so she could secure it in place with tape. Picking up the ice pack off the table, she handed it to him with a soft smile. "How'd I do?"

"You can be my nurse anytime," he told her before kissing her lips. "Although, I would've preferred the dirty nurse version instead."

She rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Bobby," Alex said as she got up and headed to the kitchen. "Besides, I found out today that there is no possible way I could've been pregnant."

Bobby stilled with the beer bottle up to his lips. Yep, that about ruined any fleeting thoughts he had about getting some tonight. And for the rest of the week.

"So," Alex was saying from the kitchen. "I think I've finally decided on what dress to wear to Lewis's wedding."

He nearly choked on the cold brew as she said that. That was something he had wanted to bring up with her later, like in bed or something, after he had fully talked it out and explained in not too many words, what was going on. Not now. Not after she took care of him and brought him a beer. Groaning he closed his eyes and waited until he heard her walking through the room, on her way to the hallway. "Alex, wait, we need to talk about Friday."

He twisted his head around, trying to see her behind the couch. She was just at the foyer about to cross over to the hallway and staring at him.

"What about Friday?" she asked as she started for him. Stopping next to the couch, she crossed her arms and eyed him.

Oh, boy. This could get bad. He just hoped that she remembered that he was injured, and that she loved him. Bobby sat the beer down and his body to face her. "I'm not going to be able to go to the wedding. Something came up today at work and I couldn't get out of it." Not wanting to lie to her, he said, "It's for the IA operation. I've got to do."

Alex took a breath and then nodded, but only a little. "Okay, so…you have to put in some extra hours over, missing the wedding. I hope Lewis wasn't too upset."

Bobby gave a curt nod. He would have to call Lewis tomorrow. "Yeah, but…I'm not sure how long…"

"You're not going to be here for New Year's Eve?" she nearly squeaked as her voice rose at that.

"I'm not saying one way or the other. I don't know. The party's at nine…I should be done by then. I'm hoping I am, but…It's like a surveillance job." Okay, that was a lie, but it was the best he could do. Alex knew how surveillance worked. It could be a few hours, or it could be all night. He was just hoping that he would come home alive.

Alex looked like she was a few seconds away from pummeling him before she let out a breath and then to his surprise, told him, "Okay. Is there anything I can do?"

Bobby was too stunned to form words so he shook his head.

Nodding again, she said, "Okay," before leaving the room.

Despite her reaction, he knew it was not okay. In that moment, he felt himself being swallowed up.

TBC…


	29. It's all just a struggle to keep afloat

A/N: Another one, so soon? Yes! It's short, well short for me, but I had so much fun writing it!

Enjoy!

* * *

He didn't follow her. He couldn't even get himself to move off the couch for what felt like hours after she went to bed. After he finished the beer Alex had given him, he had two more before he felt slightly better, but that was only physically. The pain had subsided in his leg; however, the pain in his heart remained. He knew she was disappointed.

_Okay. _She had spoken it but she didn't mean it; that he could tell. He could always tell when she was lying to him, just as she knew when he was lying to her.

Pacing around the corner to the hallway, he leaned against the archway and stared down the long hall to his bedroom. The door was closed and the light was off yet he didn't know if she was actually asleep or not. Taking a swallow of his fourth bottle of his favorite imported German beer, he closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall. She had been doing all the moving so far, nearly killing herself, so they could spend their first holiday together in their home.

What had he done to help? Not a damn thing. He hadn't even moved his bookcase out of his study yet so he could put his couch in it so she could put hers in the living room. That was tomorrow. All the furniture was to be moved in tomorrow and he was supposed to help. Now, with his knee, he didn't know if he would be physically able.

Looking to the door across the hall, he pushed himself off the archway and went into the study. Setting the bottle down on the old roll-top desk, he went up to the bookcase that was blocking off the window, which looked out onto the street, and started taking all the books, bookends, photos, and souvenirs off it. Making pile after pile, he kept the books in order so it would be easier to put them back on it once it was out in the living room. The souvenirs and photos went on his desk or on the shelf of another bookcase.

Once the bookcase was completely empty and lighter to move, he started pulling it inch by inch out of the room. It helped a lot that he had wood floors and not carpet; the bookcase was able to slide most of the way without much effort. The hardest part was getting it turned around the corner into the living room. Lengthwise, it barely cleared the top of the archway, but widthwise it was giving him trouble. After much pushing and pulling and pushing again, he was able to get it around the tight corner and out of the foyer and finally into the living room.

He had a tall, long thin desk up against the wall behind the couch, which he always used to put papers and mail and other stuff in, and he scooted it out of the way so he could put the bookcase in its place. Once done, he took a few deep breaths as he observed its position against the wall. Looking over his shoulder then back at the bookcase, he thought it looked even enough with the entertainment center on the opposite side of the room so he left it where it was.

Now, what to do with the desk he had to move out of the way? Alex had told him that she wanted to put her dining table in the alcove in the back of the room, which was the original purpose for that space but he never bothered to use it as a dining area since he didn't need one.

Turning around, he eyed his entertainment center and bit his lip. He always thought he needed a smaller one, especially since he got a flat screen a few months ago. Then what would he do with his radio/CD player? His records? Looking down at the table, it hit him that he could put the flat screen TV on the top of the table and he would figure out the rest later. Maybe it was time to sell his old records, everything was going digital anyway; at least, that was what Alex kept telling him. When it came to advances in technology, he would take her word for it any day.

For now, he pushed the desk into the foyer and up against a wall adjacent from the front door. Hell, he might decide to keep it there. Going back into the study, he took one stack of books at a time, along with the bookends, out of the room and put them the shelves. One his last trip into the study he grabbed his bottle of beer and finished it off before going into the living room where he had to get down on his right knee to reach the bottom shelf. He would eventually get around to the photos and souvenirs but only after he sorted through them all and determined which ones he wanted displayed in the living room. As he stood with a groan of pain, he observed the shelves as he thought about maybe taking new pictures, or letting Alex put her family photos and things on the shelves.

He had yet to see what she had brought over except for what she had already unpacked. Picking up his discard dress pants off the couch, he found his switchblade. Cutting the tape off a box labeled 'Pictures & Things', he opened the lid and started taking newspaper wrapped frames out. He went through each one and tried to remember where in her apartment she had them. The ones that he remembered where displayed on her bookshelves, he put on his in-between the lines of books and bookends and in the corners.

Most of the pictures were of her nephew and he had to smile at the one that had always been his favorite. It was taken almost literally right after Nathan was born and Alex was looking like hell; her hair was a mess, no makeup, and he could tell she hadn't slept in hours. Yet, her smile lit up the room, and the picture, as she looked at the little baby boy in her arms. The kid was cute too, but he was no match for his Aunt. She looked adorable. He had seen that picture in her bedroom, but in his house he was going to put it out in the living room. Centering it on the bookshelf between two rolls of books, he made sure it would not fall over and stepped back to observe his work. Satisfied, he went back to the box and finished going through it.

In the corner of his living room was a fireplace he rarely used, never bother to mess with it. Usually Alex would light hers, or he would, in her apartment but never in his. His mantle above the fireplace was bare. He never went over to that side of the room and used the area. The one time he did was to put the Christmas tree Elliot had given him. In another box, that he opened labeled 'Books', he found two of her marble bookends that were sculptured old 1940's cop cars. She had told him that they belonged to an uncle and after he passed away, they were hers to have. He always thought they were the coolest things he saw. Taking them, along with her a group of her favorite books, over to the mantle, he arranged them on top of it before putting up a couple more of her picture frames.

Once the boxes were empty, he eyed the couch but instead of tackling that job, he went into the kitchen and grabbed another beer before picking up his cell phone and disconnecting the charger. If he knew his friend, then he knew he would still be up.

On the third ring, Lewis answered, "Hey, Bobby!"

Lewis sounded drunk and he couldn't blame the guy. If he were getting married in two days he would be drunk too. As he took a sip of his fifth beer, he realized that he soon might get there anyway. "Hey, man, you're not too busy are you?"

"Never too busy for you, so, what's up?"

Bobby hesitated as he stepped back into the living room and eyed the couch. "I gotta talk to you about Friday. I, um…Lewis, I'm sorry but…"

"You can't make it, can you?" Lewis asked and he could hear the disappointment in his voice.

Bobby closed his eyes and rubbed at his head. "I'm sorry," he apologized again. "Its work…and, and, I uh…"

"Are you drinking?"

"Yeah," he said as he took another sip of the beer. "You are."

Lewis laughed at that and then told him. "Whatever you have to say, think about it and I'll be over in…ten minutes."

"Lewis, I got to work in the morning," he lightly protested; at the moment, he wasn't feeling the argument. If Lewis wanted to come over, then by all means…"Okay, come over."

"All right, I'm on my way."

Bobby flipped his cell shut and looked at the couch. At least he would have help moving that. It was heavier than the bookcase.

One of the reasons he chose to move to Greenpoint a year ago was because of its close proximity to Long Island City where Lewis lived and worked. It was just a short drive over the bridge and then another few blocks to the car shop. Right behind that car shop was Lewis's apartment.

It was more like thirty minutes later when he heard a knock at his front door. That was a first. There must not have been any available spaces out back to park…or he walked. Opening the door, he smiled at his clearly buzzed friend and moved aside to let him in. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"Nah, took the subway. Took me about ten minutes to walk here from the station. And," Lewis said as he held up a case of beer, "I had to get me a six-pack refill. I don't like that German shit you drink."

Bobby chuckled as he closed the door and locked it. "Try not to be too loud, Alex's asleep."

Lewis gave him a look and then walked into the living room and stopped. "Oh, right, she's moving in."

Bobby stopped next to him and clasped him on the shoulder as he pointed to the couch. "And you get to help me move that into my study."

Lewis took off a can beer from the six-pack and tossed the others into the recliner. "If this doesn't wake Alex up, I'll eat my hat."

He looked him over before saying, "You don't have a hat."

Shaking his head at him, Lewis popped the tab on the beer and took a drink. "You can walk backwards."

"Actually, you are. I hurt my knee tonight playing basketball. If I trip and fall, I'll make you pay my medical bill and explain to Alex why I was trying to carry a couch backwards," Bobby told him as he downed the beer and then placed the empty bottle on the bookcase.

Lewis sighed but nodded in agreement. "Fine." He sat the beer down on the coffee table then started taking the cushions off the couch. "Ah hell, I forgot it's a pullout."

Bobby just laughed as he tossed a cushion to the floor. "Okay, it's too wide to get through the archway and around the corner so, I think we should, after we pick it up, to turn it on its back. And the length is going to give us trouble; it's too long to get it between the walls and with the angle, we, uh, we're going to have to maybe take it forward, a, uh, a little at-at a time, backing it out and then…" When Lewis started laughing, Bobby frowned in confusion as he asked, "What's so funny?"

"The innuendo of what you just said."

Bobby stared at his friend for a long moment before it finally clicked in his buzzed head. "Pervert."

Lewis chuckled again before saying, "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. Can we get started now?"

With his mind now in the gutter, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Now who's the pervert," Lewis shot back at him.

"Alright, just," he had to settle his laughing before continuing. "Just, uh…just don't drop it." When Lewis shot him a glare, he smiled and bent down to grab the couch.

"I would tell you to lift with your legs and not with your back," Lewis said as he took hold and smiled. "But that might land us in the ER overnight. If you start using a cane, I'm going to start calling you House."

Bobby looked at him and asked, "Why would you call me a house?"

Lewis rolled his eyes and groaned. "I hate it when I make fun of you but you don't get it because you don't watch television."

"You should try reading more books. Insult me by using characters written by Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Who?"

"He wrote the Sherlock Holmes novels," Bobby told him in disbelief. Shaking his head, he said, "You know what, forget it. We go on three, okay. One…two…three, _lift_."

As soon as he had the weight of the couch in his arms, against his chest, and pressing down on him, the pain in his knee flared and he had to close his eyes to keep from vocalizing the pain. He could deal; it wasn't that bad. After he did this, he would have another beer, message more cream into his muscle, put the ice pack on it, and then pass out. In the morning, pain pills and coffee then he would be good to go.

"Bobby?"

"I'm good," he said as he opened his eyes. "Ready?"

The corners where sharp and the couch was long but they managed to get the angles just right after many failed attempts. Once in the hallway, they had to take it nearly halfway down the hall before taking it back in the direction of the study. Now he was walking backwards with Lewis in the telling him where to go.

Bobby got his end through the door but Lewis was pressed into the wall out in the hallway. The side of the couch pushed hard against the doorframe and it scraped the entire way through but at least it was finally in the study. Setting it down in front of the window, he collapsed on it and took a few seconds to catch his breath before Lewis helped him up to retrieve the cushions.

"What's all the commotion about?"

Bobby stopped in the hallway. Alex was coming down the hall and tying her robe around her body.

"And what's Lewis doing here?"

"Hey, Detective Alex," Lewis greeted her with a wide grin.

"Easy, boy. Don't forget you're getting married, and I'm with him," she said with a teasing smile as she looked up at him. "Well, explain why you're up at one in the morning moving furniture?"

"It's one already?" he asked with an innocent smile. Yeah, he was buzzed and feeling excessively good at the moment. Bobby leaned down and kissed her. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. It's not like I'm used to it or anything," she sarcastically told him. Looking behind him into the study, she rubbed at her eyes and then blinked. "Wow, you did a lot."

"Come see." Bobby took her by the hand and pulled her along with him into the living room. Going up to the bookcase, he gestured to it, asking, "What'd you think?"

Alex wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned into him while looking it over. He watched as her eyes scanned it, taking everything in, and then he saw the tears. Swallowing the tightness down that gripped his throat, he held her tighter to him and asked, "It's okay, isn't it? I mean, if you don't want those up there…I can, uh…"

"It's wonderful," she softly told him as she looked up into his eyes. Suddenly she reached up and pulled him down for a kiss.

Bobby moaned a little until he remembered vaguely that Lewis was in the room. Pulling away, he spotted Lewis grinning from ear-to-ear and not looking the least bit embarrassed at being caught watching them. "If you wanna live…"

Lewis raised his hands and headed for the kitchen, but not before grabbing the beer cans off the recliner. "I'll be in here if you need me," he said as he walked by them.

Once Lewis was out of the room, Bobby moved Alex away from the bookcase and then pointed to the mantle over the fireplace. She stilled for a moment before walking up to it. "My God, Bobby, you didn't have to do this."

He gave a shrug as he looked over the books and pictures again. "I hadn't been much of a help, moving you in. Tomorrow, what with my knee injury, I didn't know how big of a help I would be, so…Do, uh…do you like it? I mean, we can rearrange things later, but I uh, I want you to know how, um…how happy I am that you're doing this. I know sometimes I'm a pain in the ass and I'm not the easiest man to live with, but…You said yes so you're kind-of stuck with me for a while."

Alex chuckled at that but when he looked down into her eyes, he saw the worry there. "I don't think I'm going to change a thing. You're actually good at decorating, I'm shocked."

Feeling a sense of pride at that compliment, Bobby smiled a little and gave her another, longer, kiss. Remembering that nothing could come from passion he put into it, he pulled back and groaned. "Now I wish you were pregnant, that way we could have sex every day for nine months."

Alex smirked up at him as she said, "There's no way I could have sex every day for nine months, Bobby."

He looked in near shocked as he asked, "Why not? I could."

"That I have no doubt. But, I'm not pregnant, so I guess the only sex you have to look forward to is the morning time shower dates with yourself."

"You know, you're more sarcastic after being woken up at one in the morning than you are the rest of the day."

Alex just shook her head at him as she started for the kitchen. "And since I'm up, I'm going to join you for a drink. Hopefully it'll help me get back to sleep."

"Lewis brought his own beer. You'll like it, it's American made," Bobby called after her as he took one last look at the mantle before following.

Sometime later, and he wasn't sure how it happened, they were all three outside on the back steps. It was actually a warm night. Not too warm that the snow was melting, but there was no wind and with only his sweatpants and a NYPD hoodie he was comfortable. Alex had changed into a thicker robe but she sat on his lap and cuddled into him to 'keep warm'. On her feet were the pink fluffy slippers he found cute yet hilarious. On his feet were his shoes minus the socks.

Lewis was standing down on the sidewalk and after taking a sip of beer told Alex, "The first time I met Bobby was Boro Park, Brooklyn...it was July 4th, 1978, on the corner of 52nd and 18th Avenue, remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember," bobby said as he ran his hand absently along Alex's leg. "I was hanging with the twins, uh…Jimmy and-and, uh, Jeremy Fischetti and their cousin, Anthony Cavelieri. They invited me to Anthony's parents that day for the Fourth of July block party."

"And you were just walking by?" Alex asked as she took the beer bottle out of his hand and took a drink.

Bobby watched her and smirked a little. She claimed to hate the beer he got but she always seemed to drink half his stash.

"Nah, I lived right above the Cavelieri's and since forever I'd been trying to hang out with Anthony and his buddies because they were all older and, you know," Lewis said with a shrug, "the cool guys."

"Antony was twenty-one so he could buy beer. And we were all old enough to get smokes, Lewis just wanted our connections."

Lewis shot him a look but his face was turning red from embarrassment. "Can I please tell the story. "

Bobby raised his hands but couldn't stop the chuckle at his friends' irritation that he was right.

"So, anyway," Lewis said as he turned his attention back to Alex. "That day, as I was leaving the apartment and I see this tall, lanky Italian guy wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt, right, shooting the shit with these guys and I thought, 'if I get in good with that guy maybe I can hang with them'."

He couldn't help but laugh at the memory of how he looked as a teenager. "Are you sure it was Black Sabbath? I don't remember even liking Ozzy back in the day."

"It was Sabbath so shut-up."

"You skipped out on explaining how you looked as a teen. You were a short, skinny fourteen year old Jewish kid with coke-bottle glasses."

"This is my story!" Lewis protested again. "And as Alex can see, I'm now longer that goofy, geeky kid."

Both he and Alex stared at Lewis with innocent, sarcastic smirks that seemed to annoy Lewis even more.

"Alright, alright, so I am, but this is my story and you're not fucking it up," Lewis tried to sternly tell them both but his small smile was betraying his annoyance. "Now where was I? Oh, and Anthony had just gotten back from the war, remember that?"

Bobby nodded as he grabbed Alex's hand and brought it up so he could take a drink out of the bottle.

Alex glared up at him, saying, "You can ask."

He just smiled as he took a swing of the beer and then let go.

"Wait," Alex suddenly said. "It was '78 and this Anthony guy had just gotten home? Didn't the war end in '74?"

Bobby looked down at Alex, hesitated, and then told her, "He was in and out of the hospital for a few years. He had, uh…had lost a leg, and broke his spine in a helicopter crash."

Alex grimaced then asked, not knowing why, "Where's he now?"

"Good. You met him."

"I did?" she asked, surprised.

Bobby smiled a little, wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her closer into his chest. "Big Tony the paper guy."

Alex stared up at him. "How come you didn't tell me?"

"I did. I told you that he was my buddy and we went way back."

"But you didn't tell me what happened or that you knew each other since you were kids."

Bobby shrugged as he said, "Does it matter? And, he doesn't like people knowing. He likes it that he's known as 'Big Tony, the paper guy' or 'Big Tony, the guy that sells papers on the corner of Broadway and Grand'. It's his thing. Not 'the guy I knew when I was a kid who got his leg blown off in Vietnam'. Understand?"

Alex frowned up at him but nodded. "I guess I wouldn't want to be introduced to people like that either. And, everyone does know him now as 'Big Tony the paper guy'."

"Anyway, back to how I met this menace to society," Lewis pointed to him as he decided to keep telling the story.

"Hey, I resent that." Then, thinking of it, he looked down at Alex and asked, "I'm not a menace, am I?"

"I'll rather go with public nuisance; menace is taking it a little too far."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "Can I please finish my story? "

"Yeah, sure," Alex said as Bobby just smirked.

"No wonder you two get along so well together," Lewis was saying, "you're like the Marx Brothers."

"You're Chico."

At hearing that smartass remake from Alex, Bobby nearly lost it. He was laughing so hard tears were burning his eyes.

"Great," Lewis said as he gave an irritated shake of his head. "I'm never going to finish-"

"Just tell the story, Lewis," Bobby said once the got his laughter under control. "Ignore me."

"Yes, please, let's all ignore him," Alex got in as she pushed him aside. "Go ahead, Lewis."

Lewis was starting to get mad as he said, "It's not even that big of a finish. All that happened was that Bobby was planning on ignoring me all day, or giving me hell, but then I told them that my father owned the '67 Mustang Jimmy was sitting on."

"Ah, and that was when Lewis won your heart," Alex said as she smiled over at Lewis.

Bobby chuckled a little. "Thanks to him, his dad let us drive it around a few times."

"You got to do a lot more in it than drive," Lewis spoke up before laughing at his embarrassment.

Bobby blushed profusely and looked down at Alex. "Now you can ignore him."

"Right. I'm to think that when you and your girlfriends were alone in that car, all you did was talk."

Feeling himself get embarrassed, he looked away. "I plead the fifth."

"That was a great summer," Lewis went on. "We even almost got arrested once together."

"Oh, now that's a story I've got to hear," Alex inquired as she took a drink.

"Hey, it wasn't anything too serious," Bobby said as he watched her. "All we did was spray paint a few old subway cars. Which, in my neighborhood back then, that was like, ya know, a coming of age thing. That and being arrested. It's safe to say, I earned my right to be in my neighborhood."

"I bet you ruled the streets of Canarsie. Drove the cops crazy," Alex said with a chuckle and handed the bottle back to him. "What'd you spray paint?"

Bobby had to think about that because he'd done it while being highly intoxicated and stoned. "Um…well, on the outside I wrote, 'Listen son, said the man with the gun, there's room for you inside.' You know, from Pink Floyd's song _Us and Them_. On the inside, I remember it being long, over four car links, and I think it was 'Wave upon wave of demented avengers, march cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.' I think that was it." Looking down at Alex, he explained, "Lyrics from another Floyd song, _Sheep_."

"Big Floyd fan back in the day?" Alex dryly asked as she smirked up at him.

"Still a fan. Roger Waters' lyrics have always connected to something…deep, within my soul."

Lewis shook his head. "You're so full of shit, Bobby."

He laughed. "Sounded good though, right? And it's the truth. Nothing compares to Floyd; pure fucking genius. That's way I don't understand the Black Sabbath-"

"You were wearing it! I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday."

"Are you sure you weren't the one wearing it?"

Lewis shook his head. "You're always…You know what, fuck you, Bobby. You ruined my fucking story."

"I didn't ruin anything," he defended. "You're the one getting details wrong."

Lewis shook his head. "Fucking cop."

"Fucking mechanic."

"Hey! Calm down boys, I don't want there to be a fistfight breaking out. I'll hate for the cops to be called."

"We are the cops," Bobby told her as he took her hand again. Bringing the bottle back up to his lips, Alex suddenly let go and the jarring motion caused him to spill beer down his neck and on his sweatshirt. "Alex!"

She just laughed.

Bobby gave her a warning look but he couldn't help but smile too. After taking a sip, he looked down into her eyes and asked, "You don't actually expect me to make you pay on half my bills, do you?"

"I don't expect you to make me do anything. I expect you to _let _me pay for half your bills. I will be living here, I will be using up your electricity and water and watching the cable that you don't watch. By the way, we need to get cable installed in your bedroom."

Bobby shook his head and said, "We're not paying for cable to be installed. What I'm going to do is take a cable splicer, right, and run a cable line all the way from the living room, down the hall, and into the bedroom."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Bobby, first, that's illegal."

"It's not; it's my cable. I'm paying for it."

"Secondly," she continued, "That'll look ridiculous."

"I'll staple the line to the floorboards, up against the, uh, the baseboard…It'll be like it wasn't even there."

Alex silenced him with a finger to his lips, which he kissed. Chuckling, she said, "I'm paying for cable to be installed, end of discussion. And I'm also paying half the rent."

"You're gonna pay a thousand dollars a month for half a bed, closet space, and bad Chinese takeout?"

Alex gave him a kiss before telling him, "As long as your sharing the other half of the bed, the closet, and buying the takeout, then yes." Getting to her feet, she said, "Well, I'm pooped. Have a good night, Lewis. You can crash out on the couch if you want," she told him as she stepped down the steps to give him a hug. "Good luck on Friday and again, congratulations."

Lewis thanked her and told her goodnight. As she walked by him, she leaned down and gave him a kiss. "You behave, and make sure you clean up before coming to bed. I don't want to wake up smelling beer."

"Yeah, and if you do, you'll know who's fault it is."

Alex pointed a finger at him but she was laughing as she went inside, leaving his back door partly open.

"You two are lucky," Lewis suddenly told him. "It's good to be comfortable with each other, you know? You can joke around and say things, but you both know what to take seriously and what not to. Must be nice."

Bobby looked at his friend for a long moment before asking, "You don't have that?"

Lewis shook his head. "Not yet. Vivian's great, don't get me wrong. I'm glad I'm marrying her, but we haven't reached that level of comfort yet. That's something that takes years. You and Alex, it's as if you two are already an old married couple. You just…get it, you know."

Bobby thought about that for a moment as he finished off the bottle. Sitting it down on the step, he asked, "Why are you getting married?"

Lewis smiled while shrugging, "It's time, and I love her."

Bobby shook his head, he asked, "What, that's it? You love her and it's time?"

"There's more," Lewis said. "It's just hard to explain, especially to you. I know that whatever I say you're going to analysis and try to reason it around to fit whatever you think is right by you. If it doesn't make sense to the world according to you...Look, sometimes thinking about something too much is what ruins things. I don't want you to ruin the happiness I feel inside me every time I look at Vivian and say, 'she's going to be my wife'. Then once I do marry her, being able to say 'she's my wife'. There's no better feeling in the world than that. I don't expect a guy like you to get that."

Bobby bit his lip as he looked at Lewis. He didn't know if Lewis was right or not, but he could get that. He figured it was the same feeling he got when he introduced Alex as his 'partner' and everything that word entailed and embodied.

"I don't even know what you think about marriage, other than the obvious."

After giving it a thought, Bobby decided to respond to that. He and Alex had yet to breach the subject, other than the obvious. "You see marriage as a spiritual thing, right? As a unity of two souls to make one soul…To stand before God, and your family, and a rabbi, and make the love you have for the other person a…a, uh, a binding that only death could separate you from. Right?"

Lewis seemed surprised by that as he gave a nod. "That's right. And what's wrong with that?"

"Absolutely nothing if that's what you believe."

"You don't believe that?"

Bobby shook his head. He wished he could, but he had been a witness, and a victim, to the worst marriage in the world. His parents' marriage. "Honestly, to me…it's only a paper contract; one that governs who gets what in the relationship. If Alex wants my pension, my benefits, all she has to do is ask and I'll put her as my beneficiary."

"That's real romantic, Bobby," Lewis sarcastically told him, sounding like Alex. "Is that what you told her?"

Shaking his head, he said, "We never talk about it. She said she's not anxious to go down the aisle again and I told her I don't want to get married. There's not much to discuss. Besides, I don't think we need someone to tell us we're married. We already act like we are. And we've already stuck by each other through Hell and back, and we're still here. Through good times, through bad…sickness and health…" Smiling slightly, he said, "I'll die for her, Lewis. Until death, if she'll have me." Bobby grabbed the empty beer bottle and stood with some trouble but managed to get to his feet. "If that's what it means to be married, we're already there. I mean, I'm not completely against the idea. If I could marry her, but just between us, with no preacher or rabbi or judge…Just me and her, and our vow to each other... I'll do it in a heartbeat. It's all the other shit that I hate. You know my opinion about the church, God…authority in general. Someone that doesn't really care but been appointed the authority, dictating who can be married and who can't and why and if it all goes to shit, who gets what money and what house and what kid and the dog."

Lewis smirked and shook his head. "So, about the whole marriage thing, you think that if two people love each other deep enough, strong enough then it should be between them only, no one else."

Bobby gave a nod. "Exactly. If you need proof to my reasoning, look at society. Half the couples that get married get divorced within a year. The other half's filled with liars, cheaters, and the spouse who looks the other way and takes another pill or takes another drink, or they steep to the same level and gets a lover on the side."

"You really are a pessimist," Lewis told him as he followed him inside. "Can't there be a normal, happy marriage in your world?"

Bobby huffed out a laugh as he shut and locked the door. "In my world, my dad was a cheater who left when my mom got sick. So, no, there can't. Besides, there's no such thing as a normal, happy marriage. It's all just a struggle to keep afloat. And through it all, you're hoping that all your love and trust makes you able to put up with the bullshit."

"Can I quote you on that?"

Tossing the empty beer bottle away, he told Lewis as he started for the living room, "Take the couch. Uh, extra blanket's in the linen closet in the hall."

"Thanks, Bobby. And, hey, sorry again that you can't make it my wedding even though I knew you would've been miserable the whole time sitting in that pew, praying that God didn't strike you down for having adulterated, impure thoughts about Alex and half the bridesmaids."

Bobby laughed as he grabbed and cushion and tossed it at his friend. "Goodnight."

On his way to the bedroom, he stopped off at the bathroom and cleaned himself up so not to bother Alex; he couldn't handle that smell either. By the time he got to the bedroom, he was half-asleep and stumbling over his own feet. He was more than a little buzzed and he knew he would be paying for it at work. Numbly he tossed the hoodie and his t-shirt into the closet before sitting on the bed and kicking off his shoes.

Lying down, he kept the blanket off him as he was burning up from the alcohol and the heat blowing through the vents. At least the radiator was off down the hall. Rolling onto his left side, he wrapped his arm around Alex's body and rested against her back. To his surprise, she rolled over and wrapped her arm around him.

Resting against his chest, she said, "You do know the window in here is very close to the back steps, don't you?"

Bobby did know that, and he smiled. "Are you telling me you heard?"

Alex hummed into his bare chest before kissing it; that felt good. "Your voice carries. You get loud when you're drunk. Guess that's the Italian in you, huh?"

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "I meant every drunken, slurred word."

"I know you did. So, according to Lewis, we're an old married couple." Alex rubbed at his back, causing him to relax.

"I'm starting to feel old, and the injury to my knee didn't help. He said that if I have to start using a cane, he'll call me a house…What does that mean?"

Alex started laughing so hard the bed was shaking. "Oh, God, Bobby."

She never did answer him, but he didn't care because he just smiled and before he knew it, he was in total darkness.

TBC…


	30. For the best of the operation

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Please keep them coming, they make me happy to read!

* * *

Early that morning, he had an epiphany. Through his foggy, hung-over mind, a thought occured to him and he would have kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner, especially if he found the house empty.

Words like illegal, unethical, and breaking-and-entering had yet to click in his head, but that was all because he knew that if someone called on him he could probably just bribe the patrol cop that was dispatched. It wasn't that great of a feeling, and not because he thought he was wrong, but because he knew he was right. Keeping his emotions, and his obvious hangover at bay, he got out of his car and walked up the stone walk leading to the front door.

There was a seal on the door and a lock on the door handle. One of which he did not have a key too. Going to the garage, he tried the door and wasn't too shocked when it didn't slid up but refused to even budge. Heading around back, he took in every window, every position of the curtains, and when he saw an open one, he peered inside. Luckily for him the place was still furnished. That meant nothing had been moved or taken yet, or cleaned for that matter.

At the backdoor, he checked the deadbolt first and he didn't see it slid in place. Turning the knob, the door caught. That meant the only lock keeping the backdoor shut was the one in the knob. And they were cheap and could be easily picked. Taking out a credit card he rarely used, he slid it between the door and frame and within a few seconds the knob turned in his hand and he pushed the door open until the sliding chain-lock caught.

Sighing, he shook his head that nothing could be that easy before he stepped back then pounded his way through the door with his body, breaking the chain off the doorframe. Shutting it, he relocked the knob as he pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on.

Lance Sullivan's kitchen was dark and dusty. The sun had yet to completely rise over the horizon so there was a thin line of light seeping through the windows but not much. What had been sitting out since his death was still sitting out and he had to cover his nose to block the smell. Good thing it wasn't summer or else it would have really been bad, and with flies. The only things crawling around in there were house spiders and…

A noise grabbed his attention and as he shone the light into a corner he caught the literal tail-end of a mouse…or rat. God, he hoped it wasn't a fucking rat. There were many things he could handle but those little bastards weren't one of them. If he saw one, he would shoot it.

Moving quickly out of the kitchen, he spotted immediately in front of him the living room and the back of the chair that Sullivan had committed suicide in. The blood had been left to dry and stain. Some of the carpet had been removed for evidence purposes and the notes that had been on the table were obviously gone, having been collected. The bible sat open on the table beside the chair. He was tempted to look over the pages that Sullivan had stopped on but didn't slow down to check it out.

He was on a mission. The first room he came upon down the hall was the bathroom. Not even doing a double-take, he kept walking. The second room was like an office, but it lacked in many things, like furniture for one. What was in it was a computer desk, a home computer sitting on top of it, desk chair, a weight set in one corner and in the other was a stack of files and magazines and a few books. The guy was either too cheap to get a bookcase or file cabinet, or he had sold off the furniture.

There was a door to a closet so he checked it first and found nothing except old water damage boxes. Opening the lid to one box with his right hand, he saw that it was filled with old copies of bills, receipts, tax papers, etc. Another box held the same but with some old pictures and albums at the bottom. Sullivan didn't care much about organization. He just threw stuff into whatever he had available.

As he went to shut the lid a picture caught his eye. Picking it up, he studied it more closely. _This_ had been what his mission was about. What he wanted to find proof of. In the black and white picture was an old man, looking to be in his sixties. The man was standing in front of a store wearing a crisp business suit and the car to the right of him looked to be from the late 1950's. He could tell that it was a Chevy Bel Air convertible. The 1957 model, maybe? He would need Lewis to be for certain, but the era didn't matter, just his need to be right. The car was sweet though; he'd take it for a drive any day.

The important thing was who the man was and what business he was standing in front of. From the name on the back of the photo, Bobby saw that it was Sullivan's grandfather, and the man had been in the fur coat business for a very long time. Long enough to make a fortune and to pass the store along to family, maybe Lance's father, a uncle or brother. He would have to check records to be sure.

_Fur coats, who would have thought. _Putting the picture in his inside jacket pocket, he stood and went over to the desk. Sitting down in the chair, he opened the drawer and started searching. All he found in the drawers were more software for the computer, old computer parts, a webcam and not much else. If there had been anything important in those drawers the cops would have taken it after the suicide. Getting up, he left the office.

The last door he came upon was the bedroom. It had a musky smell to it and he wondered if it was due to the dust and mold that had collected or if it always smelt that way. Going through the closet, all he saw were suits, shoes, sports equipment and in the back corner a litter box. Nothing there would help out in his theory, in his unauthorized investigation, so he abandoned the closet to rummaged through the dresser. Once that was done he got down on his knees, with much protest, and actually looked under the bed.

There was a box. A long box and as he pulled it out a smile grew on his face right before he laughed to himself. _Got you, you son-of-a-bitch. _The box was labeled 'Sully's Fur's', the same as the store in the picture. When he opened it, he recognized the quality and texture of the coats immediately, having seen two of them already. Checking the label that was embedding into the coat and not just on a cutaway flap, he saw that the store's name was imprinted on it.

The pieces were fitting, starting to click, and he was already five steps ahead in a matter of seconds. Sullivan, and quite possible Travis, was the missing middle man. He now had a way to link Savoie to the Connelly's and Sullivan. At some point, Sullivan had visited Paul Savoie while he was with Natalie Walker, and maybe he was being a nice guy, or putting in a good faith payment, he had given Savoie some very expensive fur coats. Natalie had ended up with one, maybe Paul gave it to her or had it in his car, who knows, but she had it on the night they came into the bar when he first saw them, first met them.

Sullivan had also given some to the Connelly's for them to have or pass around, or both; it didn't matter which. All that mattered was that their housekeeper, Amelia Ramirez, had ended up with one and that was why she had one on the day they were killed. The circle was nearly connected.

_Sullivan didn't have a cat. _Bobby frowned at that thought as it registered in his head. He didn't remember seeing a cat, or smelling a cat…If there had been one in that house, he would have known. After all, he was allergic to them. There was no need for a litter box.

Bobby went over to the closet and pulled the door open. The litter box was unused; no evidence of an animal's presence having ever been in it. Slipping on a pair of latex gloves just to be on the safe-side, he knelt down and felt the joints protest in his knee. He slid the box out of the corner and notice that there was no liner or newspaper or plastic. This made no sense. In one swift move, he flipped the box over, dumping all the litter onto the floor and there, landing on top of it, an oven sized zip-lock bag.

He nearly cried out in laughter, and happiness, as he picked it up and observed the contents. He could not believe what he found. All of it right there in front of him. Pulling out a receipt book from the zip-lock bag, he opened it and shook his head. The man was thorough, kept notes like any good cop would, but Sullivan kept track of every dime given to him by not only the Connelly's but Savoie as well. Bobby was sure the numbers would match the difference that was taken out of the money on the tax forms in found at the Connelly's. Every transaction, every bribe, everything, right in the palm of his latex covered hand.

Suddenly he felt sick. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to ease the feeling away. It could have been just from his hangover combined with the smell in the house, but for a brief second he knew it was from what all this meant. And why Travis was scared to death of him right now. He put the book back in the bag with the papers he had yet to read and then took it with him out of the room.

He felt that spark ignite in his head and in his gut that had been missing for what felt like months, and he was excited. It was the best adrenaline rush in the world when he knew he close to the truth. When everything was falling into place. The circle was closing in fast. He had Savoie, he had the Connelly's, Sullivan, possibly the patrol officers, and the Narcotics detectives were drenched in guilt, in evidence, and they were all going to go down hard.

The only players left ere Rivers, Jackson, and Travis. The homicide detectives were smart, and really good at letting him in but not letting him get too close until he was trusted. Right now, he figured he was in the probationary stage with the homicide cops. One way to get them to finally open up was to get Garrison to back off with the rumors. He needed to get the IA heat off his back. It was obvious to him from the talk he had with them yesterday that they were fearing IA's "investigation" of him was going to reach out and touch them. He really didn't have anything on them besides Rivers' love of narcotics and Jackson with his prescription pills. Travis was a big mystery to him at this point. He just hoped there was something in that zip-lock bag that implicated them in their dealings.

Entering the living room, he took one last look around and as he walked by the chair again, his eyes went immediately to the open bible on the table gathering dust. Picking it up, he shined his light on the open pages. Sullivan had been reading the book of Proverbs. There were some lines underlined, some highlighted, and there were things written in the margins and on the sides; illustrating that he had had the bible for years and referred to it often.

One that caught his eye made him think of the conversation he had with Sullivan the day before he killed himself. About how he wanted redemption. It was Proverbs 28:13, and it read, "He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy."

Bobby nearly shut the book right then and tossed it aside, feeling the shame, and anger, surging through his body and heart. Before he could shut it, another passage got his attention. It was the only highlighted line on that page, like it was calling out to him. He wondered what his mother, and her doctors, would say about a thought like that. "The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are bold as a lion,"…Proverbs 28:1.

_Bold as a lion. _Wasn't that just like him? Smirking, he sat the book down where it had been and then stepped away. He slipped out the backdoor, making sure it locked behind him, and then started for his car.

If he was a lion chasing the wicked, they better flee because he was coming; there was no stopping him.

* * *

Last night before she left work, they found out that the murdered woman in the park was the second to be killed by shooting within a matter of weeks. The first was a man and he had been discovered in the same area as her victim. She remembered that Richie and Jefferies landed that case and that it had also made the papers.

Deakins poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her before refilling his cup. "So, what'd you got?"

"Ballistics came back on the shell casing found at the scene. It matched the shell casing from the other shooting a few weeks ago," Alex told him before taking a sip of the coffee. "Both are the type of bullets used for either an M-16 or M-4 rifle. We won't know which until we find it then run a comparison."

"Great, we've got a sniper on our hands." Deakins sat heavily in his chair and leaned back; after fixing his tie, he shook his head. "Early this morning, another woman was found shot. I would have called you in but Richie and Jefferies were already here, and they handled the first one so I sent them."

Nodding, she was actually glad. Getting that wake-up call would have made her head hurt worse.

"Now, not only is the public officially on high alert but so are the city officials," he told her. "A shooting like this hasn't happened here, and especially in the park, for a long time. This could be a copycat of the D.C./Virginia sniper shootings from two years ago. I want you, along with Richie and Jefferies, to work that angle until we know more."

He would have mentioned Copeland but her partner was due in court today and was out most of the day tomorrow for a dentist's appointment. That man and his perfect teeth…"If that's the case, we should expect widespread panic. This guy isn't going to stop. Do you want to go public with this?" she asked before taking a bigger gulp. It was way too early for this conversation; damn Bobby and Lewis for waking her up last night.

Shaking his head, he informed her, "The brass said no for now; not until we get something more to go on. A description would be nice."

"Or a 'Goren analysis' giving you hot zones and a thorough geographic workup and profile."

Deakins huffed out a laugh, "Wouldn't that be nice; think the brass would allow him to be loaned out? I'll gladly put him on retainer."

Alex smiled but the teasing was gone; now she was missing him.

"I've got to address the squad, get a rotation going on surveillance in the park. On rooftops of every likely location. We've got forensic techs in the park right now pointing laser beams at one another."

Alex smiled at the image of that, then asked, "Surveillance all day?"

He nodded as he repeated, "All day, every day, until this guy is caught."

Once Alex finished the coffee, she thanked the captain and returned to her desk. A few minutes later, Deakins emerged from his office and the squad immediate quieted down. She perched down on the edge of her desk and listened to her captain.

"All right, listen up," Deakins addressed the members of the squad. "Early this morning, there was another shooting in Central Park." A wave of murmurs went around the room and he held his hands up. "I know, this is getting big and it's spreading fast. That's why it's our job to put this fire out before anymore people get killed. Starting today I've decided to start a round-the-clock surveillance in the park."

She looked again to the empty chair at Copeland's desk. There was a time, early on when Copeland first joined the squad, that she couldn't bring herself to reference that desk and that chair to him. It was Bobby's, no one else, but then somewhere along the line Bobby's ownership had faded much like the memory of him ever being in that room. No one asked about him anymore except for Deakins. No one felt his lack of presence in the interrogation room except for her and sometimes Carver, especially when they couldn't get a suspect to confess.

It was like he was drifting further away from the place he had called home for four years; from a partnership that had stood strong through those years and grew in strength. They had become a force to be reckoned with that no other partnership could compare. Now, that force was gone. Been gone for two months, going on three, and it was hard to remember that it ever existed at all. She felt like she was the only one who remembered it as being real, as existing, but that was because she felt that lack of energy when she was with Copeland.

Harry was a good cop, and a dedicated one, but he was no Bobby Goren. He didn't have the energy, the focus, and that…something, that Bobby brought to the table. To their partnership. With Harry, she was never lagging behind in what he was thinking because usually it was what she was thinking. There was no spur of the moment decisions acted upon that could send him falling off a high-rise, or forcing a suspect to dance around the interrogation room with him.

That thought brought a tensed smile to her face. It also brought her back in the moment and she heard Deakins over the sense of longing that pulled at her heart. Funny how it wasn't only for Bobby, but also for her now partner.

"Now I have taken into consideration certain needs," Deakins continued, "like being able to get your kids from school, a couple of you here are single parents so don't worry, I'll make sure everyone gets hours that work best for them. However, most of you are going to have to deal with the late nights and bad takeout. If you're assigned late night hours, feel free to try to bunk-out upstairs for a few hours _if _I approve it first…Bennett."

Bennett and a few others laughed, but Alex felt the worry in her grow as she looked around the room. Depending on what shift she was assigned, she might have to work with some other cop.

"We have enough people so not to take double shifts; however, with Copeland in court today and out tomorrow for medical reasons," Deakins said, addressing her fear. "Are there any volunteers to take a double to work with Eames?"

Alex looked around and was shocked that no one ventured to raise their hand. Were they all that unwilling to take on another shift, or was it because of something else entirely? The worry grew harder, more painful, as she realized the answer to that question. Sighing, she shook her head and frowned.

Deakins noticed her look and matched her concern. His eyes showed the same feeling, he was worried, and highly disappointed with the rest of his people. "Then I guess Eames, I'll give you a late shift so Copeland can be with you. If he can't do it tomorrow, I'll take it with you."

She gave a curt nod then waited for Deakins to dismiss everyone back to work. The moment he did, she grabbed her coat and left the squad room with a tight lump constricting her throat.

* * *

Olivia sat across from her in the booth and smeared butter over the waffle on her plate before pouring a waterfall of syrup on top of it. At seeing her look, she sat the syrup down saying, "Don't start. I ran five miles this morning and I'm craving maple syrup for some reason."

Alex could understand that. She did have a truck load of strawberries and whipped cream piled on top of hers, but she opted out of the syrup. "Thanks for coming. I needed the company and Copeland's in court all day."

"It was no problem. We're just waiting around for something to happen. New Year's Eve always proves promising. There's always a call about some drunken idiot not taking 'no' for an answer."

Shaking her head, she told Liv, "I don't know how you do it."

"Believe me, sometimes I think the same thing. That is until the next case comes along and I remember why I'm with here." Olivia ate more of her breakfast than she did and it didn't go unnoticed. "Alex, talk to me."

Sighing she took a bite as she considered how to breach the subject. She could either do it the fast and easy way, like ripping off a band-aid or…

"This is about Bobby, isn't it?"

So much for considerations. Alex smiled a little. "You got me detective," she said as she sat her fork down and took a drink of the orange juice.

She already had four cups of coffee, two at home before heading to work, one in Deakins office, and the one that she drank while waiting for their order of food. Anymore and she would overdose on caffeine.

"But it's more than that," she continued. "This morning at work, Captain Deakins asked for volunteers to work with me since Copeland was out. I was shun out, Liv. There wasn't a single detective, my own colleagues, willing to partner with me. I know it's because of the rumors going around about Bobby. They aren't true, but…it's like no one cares. When it comes to him, they would rather believe the lies than to accept the truth."

"And being his girlfriend, they're doing the same to you," Olivia said with a frown of concern. "I'm sorry."

Shaking her head, she discarded the pity. She was like Bobby in the same sense that she didn't appreciate pity, especially for something that wasn't even hers or anyone else's fault.

Olivia reached out and took her hand; giving it a squeeze, she told her, "It'll be okay."

"What if it's not?" she snapped, not being able to stop the anger she felt toward her colleagues. "It's inexcusable how they could just forget everything. Forget what it means to be in the same squad, to wear the same badge…" Alex gave up her rant and leaned back in the booth. "And it's not the first time they've done it to him. You know, Liv, things happen to us all the time. We get things wrong sometimes. We screw-up, but we don't turn our backs on each other." She sat forward, pushed the plate aside, and then leaned on the table. "A few years ago, we had a case that involved Anthrax and a murdered ex-Airman. Everything lead to a chemist, Dan Croydon."

Olivia nodded. "Yeah, I remember that case. He committed suicide, right?"

Alex frowned at the memory of that case. "We thought so. Bobby thought he was our guy, we all did. Then, I don't know, something the wife said registered with me that maybe it wasn't him, but the evidence against Croydon piled up…Bobby wouldn't let it go." She didn't want to mention to her about Bobby being blindsided by Nicole Wallace, about the issues he had with his father. "Anyway, Croydon wrote a note, and when we found him dead from an apparent suicide, we all thought it was because Bobby pushed him too hard. Bobby even believed he pushed him too hard." Sitting back, she sighed as she looked out the window and that the people walking on the sidewalk and a few cars among a sea of cabs on the street. "Turned out that it was made to _look_ like a suicide and he was actually framed for murder and then murdered by the real person responsible. It didn't matter. Before it was found out, everyone jumped on the 'blame Goren' bandwagon except for me, Deakins and our ADA. No one would even look at him, stick up for him. Not a single other detective in that squad came up to him telling him that it was okay, to not worry, and that it could have happened to any one of them. They didn't even apologize for their behavior after the truth came out."

Neither one of them spoke for several long minutes, both not knowing what to say to that. Finally, Alex turned away from the window and said, "I'm scared for him, Liv. This time it has nothing to do with someone out there on the street, but someone inside the department. Cops shouldn't have to watch their backs in fear of other cops."

Olivia agreed, and all she could offer was that her and Elliot would do there best to be there, to help watch Bobby's back. Alex didn't know what any good that would do. He was after all on Staten Island, and they were in Manhattan, but she appreciated the words, the friendship.

Leaving the diner, Alex asked, "Want a ride to work?"

"Thanks, I really didn't feel like fighting the subway."

It wasn't until after she dropped Liv off in front of the 16th Precinct that she felt okay to go back to 1PP. She just hoped it was a quiet day so she could take her work into the interview room and shut out the rest of the squad.

* * *

Bobby took a sip of the hot coffee as he watched Logan climb out of the driver seat of the Crown Vic. Mike wasn't looking too pleased as he yanked the door to the diner open, making the bell chime as he entered. Searching around, the moment he spotted him he started his way but reluctantly. Shaking his head at his partners' behavior, he continued to sip at the coffee until Logan sat heavily across from him.

Looking him over, Logan said, "You still look like the same son-of-a-bitch I yelled at yesterday. What makes you think I want to hear anything you have to say to me today?"

Not answering that right away because he was both too tired and too amused. The amusement had to be from the remnants of his hangover because Mike Logan wasn't trying to be funny, or sarcastic. He was dead serious.

Bobby sat the cup down as he rubbed at his head, his eyes, and then over his jaw. He needed a shave, having not done it in more than a few days…since Christmas? "You know, normally I would take offense to that, but…I fucked up, Logan. I know it, you know it, Garrison knows it…I apologize, okay?"

Logan stared at him for a long time. It wasn't until after they both ordered and a plate of steaming hot food was front of them before he said anything. "I'm not forgiving you. Our partnership right now is hanging by a very thin thread. It's only a matter of time before you do something to sever it completely." Giving him a stern look, he said, "And that also goes for our friendship. I don't have many friends, and you're not making it easy for me to want to hang out with you after work anymore."

Bobby swallowed hard before giving a curt nod. He couldn't find his voice right then and after finishing off his cup of coffee, he still couldn't say anything. Pouring himself another cup from the pot that was left by the waiter on the table, he left it black as he took another sip. Picking up the syrup, he decided that maybe he should eat the food he ordered.

They ate in silence, neither one of them willing to say that they were wrong or that they needed help or anything else that would portray a sense of vulnerability to the other. Bobby was still thinking about that morning, his discoveries, and what he had thought about yesterday pertaining to his partnership with Logan.

It was so hard for him to not only put his trust in a man but his dependence as well. He had yet to figure out if he was lying to himself in order to think that he didn't need Alex; that he could have a good partnership with Logan. If all this talk about trusting Logan and needing him was all lip-service than he was, in fact, living in denial when it came to what he and Logan had as partners.

He wouldn't be surprised to find that to be the case with all his feelings of losing control, of trying to keep his independence, and of not letting himself fall into the darkness that always seemed to gravitate toward him. What was he trying to prove anyway? That he was a strong and confident man who could work on his own and succeed without someone there, especially Eames, to hold his hand? He didn't need to prove that, not to himself, because he already knew he was that man. There was forty-three years worth of proof of that behind him. If he wasn't strong, confident than he wouldn't have been able to survive what he had and still been able to function.

Maybe the person he was trying to prove his self to wasn't himself, but Alex? She seemed to be the one to think he needed protecting. That she needed to be there with him, for him, and to have his back. Alex was willing to risk everything to be there by his side. He didn't need her there, nor did he want her to get involved. He didn't want her to be in danger because of him. He didn't want her to hold his fucking hand and ask him if he was 'okay'.

Dropping his fork, he felt the anger shoot through him at himself for thinking all that. For the anger and resentment he was gathering toward the woman he loved. He had to remind himself that it had nothing to do with her. It was all this change and the emotions that were wrecking havoc on his heart and soul. The case and the operation, and the strain of his partnership with Logan. All this personal crisis and emotional connection was breaking his heart. It was making him feel way too much, making him hate. Making him angry when normally he wouldn't have been.

"I would ask if you're okay, but I know you're not," Logan said. "I know someone, hell, you probably know her too. She's a therapist with the department…Dr. Olivet."

"I'm not…" Bobby sighed heavily and shifted his troubled eyes up to Logan. "I don't need to talk to anyone."

Logan chewed on a piece of bacon before swallowing it down with a gulp of coffee, all the while eyeing him. Setting the cup down, he said, "It wouldn't hurt to try. You're turning this partnership to shit because you're, I don't know, stressed or something."

With no barriers keeping his emotions at bay, and with everything crashing into him, he felt himself start to lose it. It could have also been from the hangover and the irritation that always followed after a night of drinking. "You want to know why our partnership is turning to shit? It's not just me, Mike. You're just as culpable as I am. You lost me while I was chasing Cohen-"

"God damn it, Bobby, that was weeks ago. You know that-"

"You should have ditched the damn car. I was on foot, running through snow and falling on ice. He could've had a gun. And what kind of friend are you really to take me to a bar that a mob boss frequents?"

"What, suddenly that's an issue? I didn't hear you complaining before. Besides, you should be glad for that because it helped us to suspect that mob boss as a our serial killer."

"That was dumb luck, but it wouldn't have mattered if I had been killed. We could have been targeted by anyone in that place if we had been recognized as cops, Logan. And another thing, you don't help me to think."

"Oh, now I'm supposed to read your mind you arrogant fuck," Logan finally snapped back. "I'm sorry, but I don't think or speak all that psycho-mumble-jumbo bullshit. I can't make sense of your nonsense."

"I'm not asking you to understand, I'm asking you to listen. To-to talk back to me, to throw out questions or-or…ideas, _not_ for you to roll your eyes and say some smartass remark and ignore me."

Logan threw his napkin down as he said, "Excuse me for not being like Eames, I guess I'm not adequate enough for you. I guess I'm not able to be that sounding board to your immaculately genius ideas. Thank you for pointing out to me _again_ that I can't fill those two-inch high-heels." He leaned on the table, getting closer to him so he didn't have to raise his voice, as narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm not the one failing here, Goren, you are because you can't get over the fact that I'm a man that you have to listen to occasionally. And don't think I haven't noticed that little issue of yours. I am a detective you know, and a pretty damn good one at that. So why don't you just admit that the only real problem you have with me is that I have a dick."

Bobby felt the anger clench his hands and fill his head as he stared right back at his partner. "I never said I'm not partly responsible. I admit it that, yes, because you're a man I'm having issues-"

"And that doesn't make you think that maybe you should talk to somebody about those issues? I'm your partner," Logan said as he leaned closer, getting right in his face as he tried to keep his voice low. "I need to have your trust to do my job, but it seems to me that the only way we will ever be able to work together, since I'm not a woman, is to bend over and take it. Well, screw you, Goren, because I refuse to do that and yes, you are the _only_ one responsible for this massive cluster-fuck of a partnership."

Bobby felt like hitting Logan but instead he slammed his hand on the table. If there was one way to get him to explode, to lose his temper, it was to contradict him. He downright hated it, especially when he knew, or thought, he was right. "Would you just listen and accept that you're not even considering-"

"Why should I listen to you?" Logan asked at the same time. "You know what, I don't need this. You're the one always comparing me to Eames. Who can't admit when you're wrong and that maybe you are just a little bit insane with all your mommy and daddy issues."

The words clicked in his head and he was filled with so much rage that it was hard to breathe. He stared at Logan long and hard as he fought down the urge to hit the man. Having learned over the years, and being conditioned to use his words and not his fists, he was able to unclench his hands. Getting his breathing under control, he looked away and spotted a timid looking man who had a tag on his shirt informing them that he was the manager standing nearby.

The manager stepped up to the table and told them politely to keep it down or he would call the police.

"Everything's fine here," Logan said as he showed the man his badge. "It's just a miscommunication between partners. Right, Goren?"

He looked back to Logan and nodded. Then, after taking a deep breath, Bobby said, "Yeah, right." Pulling some money out of his wallet, he tossed it on the table as he went to stand. "Fine, everything is just fucking fine because I'm done. You got that, Mike. After this case is over, you can get yourself a new partner."

Logan stared hard at him as he stood from the table before saying, "You really are a son-of-a-bitch."

"You have no idea," he said as he went to walk away; stopping, he turned back and said, "Just so you know, the reason I invited you here was about the evidence I found at Sullivan's house pertaining to everything, the Connelly's, Savoie, even our operation, but I guess now you'll have to wait to find out about it when I call Garrison this evening." Bobby turned the rest of the way and went to walk out of the diner.

"Good thinking, Bobby, at least you can't miss a conference call," Logan yelled after him.

* * *

Alex couldn't make it home to let her brothers in so he had to leave work an hour early. Pulling around the corner onto the small one way street that led behind his building, he spotted the small U-Haul parked in the grass next to the tall metal fence that served no purpose except to designate the property line. Sitting in the truck he saw both of Alex's brothers, Richard and Junior. As he parked, they got out and waited by the back steps for him. Greeting them at the steps, Junior gave him a handshake but Rich, being the only sibling the most comfortable with him, pulled him into a hug.

"Thanks for doing this," he told the both of them. "I know Alex was thrilled when you both took today off to move her stuff in."

"What're we to do, she's our sister," Rich said as he followed him up to the door.

"That and she'd castrate us if we didn't," Junior remarked, making them all laugh because it was the truth.

It still amused him how a little petite woman like Alex could instill the fear of God into all the men in her life. He figured it was because they all knew that she didn't lack the will or nerve to actually, physically, kick their ass. Bobby also had to endure her wrath on a few occasions, which was never fun and there had been no makeup sex afterwards…Which was her real power over him.

Bobby used one key, the same key everyone who lived there had, to open the outer door. As he pulled it open, he slid the metal piece in place to keep it from closing. "Lucky for you two I live on the first floor, or else you'll have to try and get the furniture up those," he said as he pointed to the staircase just inside the door to his right.

Finding his house key, he unlocked his back door as he heard Rich say, "This is a pretty interesting building you live in. Did it use to be a brownstone?"

Bobby smiled as he led the way into the kitchen. "The uh, the landlord's an ex-cop that a buddy of mine from my academy days knows. He buys old brownstones and townhouses, uh, strips them down, renovates the whole interior into separate apartments then rents them out. This one has five, the basement apartment and then each floor is it's own-"

"It's nice," Rich said, cutting him off. "Wood floors, cabinets, two ovens and how high's this ceiling?" He craned his neck looking up at it.

Bobby also looked up at the high ceiling as he told him. "Fourteen feet. It's a bitch trying to clean the corners."

Junior had wandered off into the living room and when he came back in he frowned at both before looking up toward the ceiling. "What're you looking at?"

"The height of the ceiling," Bobby answered before informing Rich, "The last tenant was a chef, that's why there's an extra oven in my wall. That's one thing I like about George, he'll let you do just about anything. If I wanted to knock a wall down, he'd let me."

"I take it George's the landlord."

He nodded slightly. "If you want his number just let me know."

Rich gave him a smile. "Thanks. Yeah, me and Melissa have been looking into moving now that the kids are older. Heather's graduating high school, going off to college, and Eric has another year left before he's out of the house. We won't need the three bedroom house on Long Island for much longer. Plus, it'll be nice to live closer to family."

Bobby took an address book off the counter by the entryway and flipped it open. Finding George's number, he wrote it down on the back of one of his work cards then handed it Rich. "When you talk to him, let him know you know me," he smirked. "He's one of the few who likes me." That got a laugh out of Junior who had been mostly quiet, but Junior was always usually mostly quiet around him, except for when he was trying to get the best of him in unless trivia. "Do you have a lot of stuff to bring in?"

Junior was looking over the stuff on his refrigerator as he answered, "Not too much. The first load is her couch, sofa, armchair, and a few boxes she left. We have to go back to get the dining room set, the glass case, and the rocking chair that's in her bedroom. Oh, and Polly."

Right, Polly. Bobby looked into his living room and to the area next to the fireplace and the bay windows that looked out onto the street. It would be the best place to put Polly's cage. The couch and sofa and armchair would all go into the living room. He could keep his recliner in there, but it wouldn't match any of her furniture so...He rubbed at his head as he thought about asking Elliot if he wanted it. Or he could push it up in the corner of his study next to his couch.

Her dining set would go in the alcove along with the glass case that she kept her fine, and very expensive dishes, the China tea set that her great aunt had passed down to her, and wine glasses. That left the rocking chair which would go in the bedroom.

"Don't forget her TV and curtains," Rich added as he put the card in his pocket.

Bobby frowned as he looked over the bay windows trying to imagine how her curtains would look hanging over them. Why did they need curtains anyway? There were perfectly good blinds already hanging up there.

"He has that look."

Looking over to Rich, he saw both him and Junior with bemused smiles on their faces. The same bemused smile that reminded him of Alex. "What look?" Bobby asked as he rubbed over his jaw.

"The look of a man who has never lived with a woman a day in his life since leaving his momma's house. Lucky bastard," Junior said, causing Rich to laugh.

Bobby smiled slightly as he closed his eyes. It was time to stop thinking about where everything would go and to actually start putting it there. "Alright, if, uh...if you're thirsty or anything, help yourselves. I need to move the recliner into my study first, then we can bring her furniture in," he told them as he started for the living room.

"Alex said you couldn't help move anything because you hurt your knee yesterday shooting hoops."

Looking over his shoulder to Alex's brother, he told Rich, "Its not that bad, I can help with whatever you need me to help with."

They were still moving her stuff in and rearranging the furniture, for the third time, around the rooms when five o'clock rolled around. Bobby grabbed his cell off the counter in the kitchen and excused him to the study to make the phone call to both Garrison and Logan.

His knee had been fine at first but now it felt hot and a little stiff. Rich had commented on how he was limping slightly and that he should take a break. That was when he noticed the time so he was 'taking a break' to make his call. Sitting down on the couch under the window, he leaned back and listened to the ringing until the IA officer picked up. Then he three-way the call to Logan and informed them all about what he had found at the Sullivan's and what it all could mean.

Garrison was excited but Logan barely spoke. Bobby knew that his partner was still pissed off at him. Once he arranged a time and place to pick up the evidence from him, Garrison got off the phone but he could still hear Mike's breathing over the line.

Weeks ago Garrison had informed him that he thought at some point during the operation that it might be a good thing to 'fracture' the partnership he had with Logan. It had been an option, a move to implement if it was for the best. He remembered not liking that idea. He remembered that he didn't want to isolate himself, and that he needed Logan to make sure he didn't spiral out of control. Despite his needing, it had happened anyway. Everything felt out of control and the partnership he had with Mike Logan was fracturing but it had nothing to do with 'for the best of the operation'.

It wasn't an act like the other times had been. There was no inside joke, no talking about it before they acted like they were mad with one another. This was real, and it felt all too real as he listened to the silence on the other end of the line. It was hurting, cutting something deep within him to know that Logan really did hate him. To know that his partnership was actually falling apart.

He regretted what he had told Logan at the diner. The thought of trying to work with another partner made the gnawing feeling in his gut more painful. It felt like a knife was being twisted around and around, killing him slowly but so horribly.

Clearing his throat, he got out the word "Mike" before the breathing stopped and the dial tone sounded in his ear.

Bobby closed his eyes as he snapped the phone shut. Tossing it across the room, he didn't care if the phone shattered on impact with the floor. All he knew was that right then he really was alone when it came to his partnership.

* * *

For the first time in what she thought was ever, Alex was the one arriving home late. Very, very late, as she shut the back door and locked it. There were a few things she noticed right away. One was that she hoped her brothers made it home okay because there was about two cases worth of beer bottles littered around the kitchen. Two, Bobby had ordered pizza and as she opened the refrigerator she noticed a medium sized box on the shelf with her name actually written on it with a black marker.

Shaking her head, but smiling at the gesture, she took the box out and opened it to expose the Hawaiian with extra pineapple and added pepperoni. Putting two slices on a plate to heat up, she set the time on the microwave and started it before going into the living room.

Stopping just pass the entryway, she felt a little off-balance at seeing all her furniture in Bobby's living room. It looked good, yet it was weird. She actually missed seeing his recliner, his couch…There was barely a trace of Bobby in that room anymore except for the books on the bookcase and his play station laying out on the floor. Two controllers were abandoned, one on the coffee table and the other one the floor, and she spotted more beer bottles and an empty box of chicken wings on the table.

Well, he was still acting like a bachelor, she thought as the microwave beeped. Ignoring her food for now, she went over to the entertainment center and straightened the scattered games into a stack and put the game system up. Then she cleaned off the coffee table and threw all the trash away before getting her food. She left the kitchen for him to clean as she sat on her couch and grabbed the remote control.

After eating and watching some late night forensic shows on cable, she went into the bedroom, got her a pair of pajamas and took them into the bathroom with her. She left the water run for a bath as she cleaned off her makeup and brushed her teeth. Deakins had allowed her to get in a good two hour nap before her shift at Central Park with Copeland. Since he had been up all day and in court, Harry had nodded off in the car but she didn't mind. It had given her time to think as she observed the dark and desolated pathways.

She knew how hard it was for Bobby to adjust to change; it literally wore on him. In his childhood, change had meant chaos and it was always unpredicted and maybe even dangerous for him. Change had also always been accompanied with bad things happening: his parents divorce, his mother's illness, his father's abandonment, his brother's addiction.

Alex understood all that about him because it was apparent in everything he did before it, during it, and after it. His discomfort was always so obvious. Hers, however, wasn't so. She knew how to hide it better than he did because she could adjust, or at least, pretend to. Change was easier for her because she didn't have all the other baggage associated with it weighing her down like he did.

However, since she last lived with a man, with Joe, she had blocked a part of herself off. The part that was accustom to being with some one on such a close and intimate basis. The part of her that was willing, and even excited, to live with the man that she loved. She didn't think that she would actually find someone who could take Joe's place not only in her heart but in her life to the point of living together. Now, here she was living with Bobby Goren, of all people.

Alex wasn't naïve, she knew that living with him was going to be a challenge. She agreed with him when he said he wasn't the easiest man to live with. He had his way of doing things, of being, and he had been alone for his whole life. She, luckily, had the experience of living with a man before. She knew what to expect, but Joe hadn't lived the life Bobby had lived. He had family, brothers and sisters that he was close too, that he even lived with after moving away from his parents at the age of sixteen. Joe had a relatively normal childhood, much like hers. He was from a cop family, like she was. He knew how to live with some, how to give and take, how to be open, and how to be happy and content for the most part.

Bobby was still struggling with all of that, and now he was dealing with all of that with her in the same house as him. There would be no more hiding, unless he just didn't come home. No more shutting her out unless he locked himself in the study or bathroom or something. She could only imagine what was going through his head through all of this.

Trying not to worry too much about it, she undressed and got into the huge tub that she was so glad Bobby had come into good graces to get. With her eyes closed, she relaxed in the tub and washed her body and her day away with a good soaking. She had drifted off into her thoughts again and only to be startled out of them when she heard a noise.

Opening her eyes, she looked toward the door and saw Bobby there, leaning against the doorframe watching her. At the sight of him, she didn't know whether to be annoyed at him for interrupting her, or happy that he had that look in his eyes. The one that spoke volumes of his love for her. Smiling, she said, "I thought you were asleep."

Bobby didn't say anything as he continued to stare at her, but a small smile did twist on his lips. He looked tired and that pulled at her heart. Coming into the bathroom, he didn't take his eyes off her as he took the bottle of Tylenol off the counter. He took two with a water that he stuck his head under the faucet to drink.

"You could get a cup for that," she told him as he dried his face.

Still not talking, he shrugged as he stepped up to the tub and then knelt down with a grimace twisting his features dark. Reaching out, she rubbed at his face with her wet hands and pulled him to her. Bobby's lips nearly devoured hers when they met and she moaned loudly at the contact. His tongue slid along her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him in.

She felt the last of her stress and worry slip away as she gave herself to that kiss. Feeling his hand run along the back of her neck, pulling her closer, she wrapped her arms around his neck, getting him wet, as she nearly pulled him down with her into the tub.

Chuckling, he had to back off before he actually made it in. Leaning in to kiss her again, he deepened it, caressed her mouth one last time, and then pulled away. Resting his head on hers, he said, "I couldn't go to sleep without kissing you goodnight first."

Alex felt the love fill her heart at those words. She loved him so much and maybe, just maybe, they would be able to make this work. "I love you," she told him before giving him a kiss on the lips.

Bobby smiled before telling her, "Welcome home."

It was the first time he had said anything like that. To refer to his house as her home. Alex nodded slightly, not knowing what to say and not trusting herself to speak. Bobby seemed to get that as he kissed her again before getting up.

She watched as he left the room and disappeared around the corner. Sighing, and swallowing down the swell of emotions that had gripped her throat, Alex shut her eyes and hoped that she would call this house her home for a very long time.

TBC…


	31. New Year's Eve pt 1

A/N: I greatly appreciate the reviews everyone! Not sure but I'm looking at 3 parts for New Year's Eve. It's a long day, lol.

Enjoy!

* * *

He tossed in the bed again, away from Alex's sleeping body, as he tried to get comfortable. There was a dull ache in his left hand, his back felt tight with tension, and his knee was on fire. He had found an old brace, one he used after he got out of the hospital years ago, and put it on. It hadn't helped; it still hurt.

A cool breeze caressed over his bare chest, his face, from the jarred window. He had opened it at some point thinking the cooler air would make him more comfortable. Alex liked for the house to be warm; sometimes it got too hot for his comfort. With only a thin sheet covering his body, he was still so warm that he was sweating, which made it that much harder to sleep.

Not being able to take it any longer, he groaned as he sat up on the edge of the bed. Rubbing at his head, his eyes, he glanced to the clock and saw it was after three in the morning. So much for getting a good night's rest. Getting up, he shut the window, slipped on his slippers, and then left the room. At the end of the hallway, there was a window that looked out onto the street; with the blinds open, the light from the street seeped in to cast a glow down the hall. Under that window was the radiator Alex liked to turn on all the damn time. He only used it if, and when, his central heating and air went out, which was often.

Coming upon the bathroom, he flicked the light on and stepped into it without bothering to shut the door. After he used the toilet he washed up and splashed water on his face. Resting his head on the glass mirror, he grimaced at all the pain that was wrecking his body. The biggest pain, however, was in his head. It wouldn't stop hurting; no matter how many pain pills he took, the sharp pain wouldn't go away. He was afraid that it would never stop hurting, not until he was dead.

Sighing heavily, he rubbed at his jaw and looked at himself in the mirror. He needed a serious shave. If he let it go much longer he would actually have a beard. Pulling out his shaving cream and razor, he lathered his face and then got to work on ridding himself of the facial hair. Once he was done, he left the bathroom but continued further down the hall. Turning the light on in the study, he looked around, even checked the closet, before crossing into the foyer. He checked both locks on the front door before pulling open the coat closet, which he mostly used for storage of such things as snow shovels, boots, his toolbox, and other stuff. Seeing it was clear of danger, he shut the door.

Polly started chirping at him as he moved through the living room. It still startled him to see Alex's furniture in his living room and not his own. They had kept his coffee table, entertainment center, but added her end tables and he almost walked right into one before seeing it in time to avoid hurting himself. Crossing the room, he opened a door and peered into the small laundry room; nothing except a pile of dirty laundry he had yet to wash. That reminded him to drop off his dry-cleaning in the morning. He took a moment to prepare the washing machine and throw all the clothes, minus the whites, into it before leaving the room.

The only other room to check was the kitchen. He didn't know why he felt like checking his house, but it seemed to make him feel better as he went through the process. A soft glow streamed out of the open entryway as he wandered in and went right to the backdoor to check the lock and the alarm.

Feeling satisfied that his house was safe, he let out a deep sigh as he opened the refrigerator and took out a beer. At seeing Lewis's wedding invite on the freezer door, he pulled it down, balled it up, and threw it into the trash. Then without knowing why or what made him snap in that moment, he slammed a fist into the side of the refrigerator.

Realizing what he'd done, he closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. Trying to shake off the anger, the hurt, he took a long sip of the beer as he went back into the living room and sat heavily on the couch. Leaning back, he stared at the black TV screen as Polly's chirping faded into silence with the rest of the world. He closed his eyes, took a drink, and stopped fighting the sporadic spurring of thoughts.

Suddenly he felt pressure on his shoulders and his eyes shot open as he jerked around to be staring up into Alex's shadowed face. Her couldn't see much of her in the dark but what he did see was worry. Sighing in relief that it was her, he rested back against the cushions.

"I heard a noise."

Swallowing around the beer in his mouth, Bobby rested his head back, saying, "I didn't mean to wake you." Her hands returned to his shoulders, massaging the tensed muscles. Leaning forward slightly, he moaned as his body started to finally relax. "You're too good to me," he softly whispered into the room.

Feeling her fingers move to his neck, Alex told him, "You deserve it."

"Do I?" he questioned just as softly.

She stopped massaging his neck as her arms wrapped around him from behind. At feeling her breath on his ear, a wave of arousal rocked through his body. Trying to keep that feeling at bay, knowing he couldn't do anything about it, he nearly lost it as she kissed his ear before telling him, "Stop questioning my love for you, it gets annoying."

It wasn't her that he was questioning, but himself. The knowing that he wasn't being one hundred percent open and honest with her was weighing heavily on his conscious. Turning his head, he caught her lips with his for a brief moment. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily as he rested back.

"Wanna talk about it?"

No, he didn't want to talk about it. He shook his head as he felt her hands run along his bare chest. His breath hitched and he felt a twitch of frustration at her for exciting him. Then he realized she wasn't trying to excite him but to comfort him and he relaxed, but not by much. "I'm not-"

"You've been on edge for weeks, Bobby. This is the worst I've seen you in a long time. I know that there are things bothering you."

At hearing the fear in her voice, he opened his eyes and took a big gulp of the beer. Once he got the cold brew down his tight throat he tried to reassure her, saying, "I'm fine."

"Then why did you hit the wall," she asked as she hugged him tighter from behind.

"I didn't hit the wall," he told her like it mattered. The point was that he had hit something and she knew that it had been the noise that had woken her.

"Okay, it wasn't the wall," Alex tried to laugh at that but failed. She wasn't buying his act for one minute. "What's going on?"

Bobby took another drink before leaning forward, trying to break the contact. "It's just work, you know. Nothin' I can't handle."

At seeing the unopened mail on the coffee table, he picked it up and shuffled through it. One envelope got his attention as he saw that it had been forwarded to him from 1PP. Turning it over, he ripped it open and pulled out the letter.

"What's that?" Alex asked as she worked her fingers on his shoulders one last time before moving away.

Reading over the letter, he didn't look up. A part of him was fearing what she would have to say about who had written him; he had yet to inform her about this part of his personal life, having been able to keep it only to himself for all the years they had worked together. Finally, clearing his throat and looking up at her, he said as he watched very closely for her reaction, "It's from, um, Wally Stevens."

Alex frowned at him and asked, stunned, "You actually write him?"

He expected that stunned reaction, but having yet to see the fear or worry, he only nodded as he got off the couch and headed for his study. He kept all his letters from Wally in a file in the desk drawer. When he remembered, and had the time, he would write back. At the moment, he wasn't in the mood for it. It was too damn early and he hadn't had any sleep. Plus, it was mostly a letter wishing him a Happy Holiday. That wasn't all there was, but it was most of it.

Re-entering the living room he didn't see Alex anywhere but he heard a noise in the kitchen. Alex had started the coffee machine and was opening a can of soup. "What'd he have to say?" she asked without looking at him.

Shrugging, he walked up behind her. "He, uh, he was just telling me to stay out of trouble and to have a happy holiday."

"A murderer told you that?"

Bobby felt a stab of pain shoot through his chest. He felt as if he had to actually defended himself, and Wally, to her. Instead of saying anything, he finished off his beer and reached around her to set it on the counter. "Alex," he said as he moved against her back, feeling her silk pajamas against his bare skin, as he gently placed his hands on her hips.

"How concerned should I be?" she asked as she put the pot on the small burner and turned the stove on.

Watching her dump the soup into the pot, he didn't know what she was asking. "With what? He doesn't have my home address if that's what-" She moved away from him and he felt her anger in his own heart, pounding and ripping it out of his chest.

Alex filled the can with water before adding it to the soup and stirring it around. She had yet to look at him. "I mean how concerned should I be with you? I know you're careful, but how many criminals exactly do you correspond with?"

Bobby looked to the floor as he rubbed at his neck. "That, uh…that's personal," he told her as he grabbed two cups out of the cabinet. The coffee wasn't done brewing but he didn't care as he grabbed the pot and filled the cup. Drips of coffee sizzled on the hot plate before the replaced the pot.

"Personal? We're in a relationship, Bobby."

"And that means that we can't kept certain things private?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Aren't you the one that said that there are some things you'll never tell a guy, even if you were going to marry him?"

Alex turned to face him as she crossed her arms. Giving him a stern look, she asked, "How many?"

This was the last thing he wanted to talk about with her, but he knew she wasn't going to drop the subject. Giving in, he leaned against the counter and took a sip of the coffee before answering, "A few, but you should already know that."

Alex stepped up to him, saying, "How am I _supposed_ to know that when you don't tell me?"

"C'mon, don't tell me that you didn't notice who some of my contacts were while working with me for four years. Remember the guy with all the body art? Yeah, I've been talking to him since I worked Narcotics. Since I busted him, and his biker gang, for trafficking."

Alex stared hard at him. "You affiliate with biker gangs?"

Bobby rubbed at his head as it started to pound. "I don't _affiliate_," he stressed in irritation. "He rolled on a rival gang, so we cut him a deal and I kept him on as a confidential informant. It's not like I buy him drinks. And if it wasn't for him we wouldn't have known to look to Canada-"

"I don't need a recap of our cases. I know what he told you." Alex shook her head and turned back to the stove. "Who are they?" she asked as she stirred the soup around in the pot.

Bobby stared at the floor as he refused to answer that. "Alex…"

"Bobby I want to know who's been writing you. Do they call too?" When he didn't answer, Alex slammed the spoon down on the stove and turned back around. Eyeing him, she shook her head. "Great. That's just great, Goren."

"Only two have my work cell phone number. And both were unavoidable." Bobby didn't see that easing her anger any less, and he didn't expect it too.

"Let me take a guess…" she said as she leaned against the stove and crossed her arms. "Nichole had it since she obtained everything else of yours. It's a good thing she's possibly dead…"

Bobby shifted his eyes off the floor to look up at her and she knew.

Alex asked in near disbelief. "She isn't, is she?"

Giving a slight nod, he said, "She called me on Thanksgiving. She wanted me to know that she hadn't drowned in the East River."

Alex gave a curt nod. "Why didn't you tell me?"

At hearing the sharp sting of betrayal in her voice, Bobby swallowed hard as he shook his head, telling her, "It wasn't…" At seeing her look, he stopped talking. She was beyond angry and he could feel it rolling off her body. She was disappointed. He knew that it didn't matter how long he and Alex were together, or how much he loved her, there were just some things he didn't talk about. Some things that he didn't want her to know. This was one of them. Bobby stepped away, saying, "Like I said, it was personal. It didn't concern you because we were no longer partners; we weren't even together. I told Deakins, just in case."

She was working her jaw and he knew she was trying to keep herself under control. Finally she spoke, saying, "So, this is what it's going to be like being with you. It makes me wonder what else you're keeping from me. How do you think I'm supposed to feel learning that you're talking to criminals, murderers, Bobby?"

"I…I don't know how you're supposed to feel. I mean, this is why I didn't even want you to know," he said and knew that it wasn't the right thing to say, but it was the truth. Bobby saw that in her eyes and felt like walking away. "I never claimed to be perfect, Alex." At seeing the steam pouring off the soup, he told her, "The soup's done."

Alex turned around and stirred it before shutting the heat off. Setting the pot aside, she pulled two bowls out of the dish strainer and filled them. "How come it seems like ever since we got back together all you do is try to pick a fight with me?"

Bobby closed his eyes and rubbed at the pain throbbing behind them. "Do you actually think that's what I'm doing?" he asked as he took the other cup he had taken out of the cabinet. "I'm not trying to make you mad," he explained as he filled it with coffee before stirring in some sugar. "I'm trying to make you understand. You're the one that's being argumentative."

"_Me,_" Alex said, stunned, as she sat the bowls down on the table. "Aren't you the one who's so full of yourself that you can't even see when you're wrong?"

Bobby stared at her as she said that. Handing her the cup of coffee, he asked, confused, "Were you expecting me to just…roll over? I'm not supposed to be opinionated now, but, uh…apologetic for something that I don't need to apologize for? If you knew the answers were going to upset you, then why'd you ask?"

"Cut the crap; you know what I'm talking about. If I don't confront you about anything, I'll never know. You tell me nothing unless I pry it out of you."

"I'm just trying to protect you, because you don't need to know who I write, or when…Just like you don't need to know every single detail about my undercover work."

Wow, was he tired. If he wasn't, he would have known better than to say something like that. Bobby immediately felt like abandoning the conversation right then by leaving the room, but he could see the growing irritation build in Alex as she glared at him, holding him in place.

"And what do you think I'm trying to do in knowing what's going on? If something were to happen-"

"You don't have any faith in me to do anything without you, do you?" Bobby took a big gulp of the coffee before telling her. "Beyond popular belief, I do know how to not only live my life without you but I also know how to be a cop as well. I've done it for years. And I did it so well, that I got promoted all the way up the chain to Major Case, all of it, without you."

She was silent for a long moment after he said that. Alex looked almost shocked before recovering. "Bobby, I know that."

"Then why do you keep questioning me? As if I need your permission to do anything, to-to work and to live my life the way I like living it, even if that involves having a private life separate of you." Blame it on his lack of sleep, and his increased stress and the fact that he couldn't get what Logan said out of his head, but his defenses were rising and his emotions, and reasoning, were slipping. "Why do you assume that I'll fall apart without you beside me, _mitigating_ everything I do? And I'm not just talking professionally."

Alex looked shocked beyond belief as she stared up at him. She was struggling, he could see it, and that meant she was holding back. With the way he was shooting off at the mouth, he hated her reserve. Sighing, she shook her head at him, saying, "Maybe because you need someone to mitigate. You don't exactly have a clean record, you have issues both personally and professionally. Bobby, we used to work great together and suddenly you're fighting that connection and I don't get it."

The truth was he didn't get it either, but getting him to admit that was the problem. Bobby had a hard time admitting his failures even though he felt them all the time. "How am I fighting that connection, exactly? By trying to keep you away from a situation that you have no business being a part of?" Yeah, he should stop talking, but he hadn't learned yet when to just shut-the-hell-up. "But, you're right, you know…We did work great together. You got me when no other partner did before, but that doesn't mean that I don't, or can't, work unless you're by my side. Yeah, I miss you and it hurts, but I've got to deal with it, and you've got to deal with it."

"I am dealing…"

"Are you? Alex…you went to Staten Island and kicked down my contacts door," he told her. "And right now I don't need you kicking down doors in order to stand beside me. When the punches start coming, I need you in my corner, yeah, but out of the way. I've got to know that you're supporting me…but _not_ as my partner. I need you there as my girlfriend, as-as the woman who loves me."

"I don't know where else to be but by your side," Alex's voice strained as her emotions wrecked her.

Bobby saw her reserve slipping. Gently taking her by the shoulder, he firmly told her, "Stop, okay, just for one second stop and think about that. Think about how, for me, having you as my girlfriend right now will mean so much more than you being my partner."

Alex took in a shuddering breath as she stared up into his eyes. "What's the difference, Bobby? Because right now, I don't see it. Partner, girlfriend…they both come with the same responsibilities."

He closed his eyes as that hit him. As he felt the emotions that those words did to his heart, his soul, but there was a difference. Opening his eyes, he stared into hers as he said, "My girlfriend would be able to leave it alone. She wouldn't have gone to Staten Island, to demand that my contact make her part of an operation that doesn't even involve her. Alex-…" he stopped himself as the emotions started to choke him. Taking a breath, he continued, "That's a big difference. That's not letting it go, that's not moving on. You have your own partner to worry about. You have Copeland-"

"He's not you. He never will be. I don't love him, Bobby, I love you and you're the only partner I want."

Hearing her say that filled him with so much love that it hurt. Bobby nodded as he smiled a little. "I understand that, I do. I'll give anything to work with you again…That's one of the main reasons I decided to do the whole undercover thing, but I know there's a huge possibility of that not happening. Yeah, I might get back to Major Case, but why would the brass overlook us being together to put us back as partners? Copeland's not a temp, he's permanate. If the Chief decides to give Logan a shot at Major Case, and we're partners now…Why would he split us up once we get there? He won't. Mike Logan will be my partner, not you."

He realized that even then Logan might not be his partner after what he told him yesterday. Bobby didn't mean what he had said; he had been angry and then with what Mike had told him…In all actually, if he couldn't have Alex then he would rather have Mike for a partner. They did work well together when they weren't keeping themselves from hitting one another.

"You have to let me do my job, here." Bobby looked into Alex's eyes as he said that. "I can't do it with you trying to interfere." At seeing the protest rise up in her, he cut her off, asking, "D-did, uh…did you do this with Joe?"

That silenced her as she searched his eyes in confusion. "Joe? What does-"

Bobby went on, ignoring her questions. "Did you rush off when he was undercover and demand to get involved?…If this is about, with what happened with him, if you think that because you're not there, that I'm going to get killed…"

"Bobby, just stop this right now," she snapped, cutting him off. "Okay, just stop. This isn't about him."

"Were you?" he asked, demanded again. "Because if it's no, if you were never like this when you were with him, and he was your husband…"

Alex was starting to lose more of her control as she backed away and rubbed at her forehead. He got her to think about it, to realize that maybe this had more to do with Joe than about 'protecting' him.

Keeping his distance, Bobby said as gently as he could, "Alex, I think this isn't about me at all. This is about him. I think you're afraid that what happened to Joe will happen to me. You can't let what happened to him dictate what-"

"I'm not!" she sternly told him as she stared him down. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

Nodding slightly, he told her, "I know, but you also know what it means to be a cop. You have more of a cop mentality than I ever could. It's in your blood." Moving a little closer, he dropped his voice as he said, "What we do every day can get us killed. People hate us and bad people want to kill us if they can't buy us. I know that, you know that, and there isn't a whole lot we can do about it."

Alex was nearly shaking as she wrapped her arms around her chest. "Then you know how hard it is for me to stand idly by when the only thing running through my cop blood is how am I going to have your back."

"I get that. I do, I get that completely, but it's not helping me….You can't do this," he nearly pleaded. "You can't take my control away like that. I can't have you questioning me, my abilities…I-I mean, wha-what's going to happen to me out there if all I'm thinking about is you?" Bobby asked as he got right up in her personal space.

Alex looked away as a tear threatened to fall. Reaching up, she rubbed it away before saying, "This is exactly what I was afraid of getting involved with another cop. I knew it would be difficult, never-the-less painful."

"What, so now you're sorry you fell in love with me?"

"You hate it when people put words in your mouth, Goren, so don't put them in mine," she told him as she turned back to face him. "That's not what I'm saying, all I'm saying is that this," she gestured back and forth between the two of them, "is what I was always afraid of. The reason why I stopped letting it get personal in the workplace and with other cops. I am in love with you and I'm glad that I am." Taking a deep breath, Alex placed her hands on her hips as she admitted, "And yes, you could be right. This could be about my fear of you dying like Joe did. I don't know, but it's not going to go away because you're asking it to. My fear is just that: a fear. If it's that much of an inconvenience for you to do your job properly, then maybe instead of forcing me to let it go why don't you help me out."

"Help you out?" he asked, more confused.

"Yeah, instead of shutting my out, you tell me what you're doing. I'm not saying that you have to tell me about threats on your life, but something you can do is let me know what's going on. Tell me why you can't sleep."

"Joe do that?" he quickly asked, getting defensive again.

"Does it matter?" she snapped back.

Bobby stepped back and crossed his own arms. "…I guess it doesn't."

Alex looked to the table and shook her head. "Another thing you can do is tell me how Logan is as a partner. What his role in all this is. Is he undercover with you?"

He felt the tightening in his chest. Picking up the cup of coffee, he told her, "He was, still is…uh, in a way, just more on the outside of it now."

Alex had closed her eyes at hearing that. Shaking her head, she said, "So you're in it alone."

"I've got backup," he said after the swallowed the now lukewarm coffee. The soup was probably warm as well. Alex looked up at him and he immediately knew what it meant. "And don't give me that look. In case you've forgotten you're speaking to a man who ran three undercover operations while in Narcotics. I was undercover in those alone too, and look at what I accomplished. I'm not some incompetent fool who needs someone to hold my hand."

"I never said you were. You've proven time and time again how big of a boy you actually are."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked bitterly.

Alex seemed over it as she shook her head and picked up the bowl. "I don't even know anymore. All I know," she said as she grabbed a pack of crackers off the counter, "is that I'm tired, hungry, and that this conversation is over."

"But…did we even reach a conclusion?" he asked, confused.

Rolling her eyes, she left him alone in the kitchen wondering just what happened in the last two minutes of their argument.

_What the hell just happened? _He didn't know, and he wasn't even sure if she agreed to finally back off or not. Rubbing at his head, he felt the headache and realized how exhausted he was. It didn't matter because as picked up his bowl and headed out into the living room. Once he was done eating he would have to shower and get ready for work.

Alex was on the couch and watching CNN news as he sat the bowl down on the coffee table before going over to the laundry room. After throwing the clothes into the dryer, then the whites in the washer, he went back out into the living room and sat down beside her. Picking up a cracker from the pack on the table, he started to eat. They ate in a comfortable silence, putting their emotions at bay for the time being, as they watched the morning news. At some point, Alex pulled up her legs on the couch and rested them against his side. He knew that they were okay but that gesture helped to solidify that fact for him.

As he got up to refill his cup with more coffee and put his bowl in the sink, Alex handed her empty cup to him asking for a refill as well. Smiling as he took the cup, he watched her for a brief second before leaning down to give her a kiss. "Sorry I woke you."

Alex stared up at him before asking, "That all you're sorry for?"

Bobby straightened as he thought about that. It was all he was sorry for. He wouldn't apologize for what he had said, or thought, or felt. If anything, he would defend himself, whether verbally or silently, until he had nothing left to defend. Not giving her an answer, knowing that she already knew what it was anyway, he went into the kitchen to refill their cups.

Alex was still on the couch when he returned, but she wasn't paying any attention to him. Placing the cup down in front of her on the coffee table, he said, "I don't understand why you think I should apologize."

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. He watched as she rubbed her head, a telling sign of her irritation, before she picked up the cup and took a sip. "If you don't know…" she trailed off, leaving it at that.

That frustrated him. Where he didn't hesitate to speak his mind, even when it was unacceptable, Alex always seemed to back off when speaking hers. She covered it with some smartass comment like that, or a sarcastic remark, or a quick jab at him to back him off. "Why'd you do that?"

Alex turned to him, asking, "Do what?"

"Uh, well…" he took a moment to get his thoughts in order before saying, "You had no problem questioning me about who I choose to write, but whenever I try to get to the deeper meaning of what you're thinking, you shut me out. Isn't that called being a-a, uh, hypocrite?"

"Look who's calling the kettle black?" she shot back.

He smiled. "See." Bobby sat his cup down as he turned to the side, facing her. Resting his head in his right hand as he propped his arm up on the back of the couch, he told her, "I've always thought you were so clever, especially at work, you know. I liked how you could reveal so little, but at the same time leaving me believing you told me so much. That you were being open, honest, when in fact you were hiding, much like you're doing now…" he trailed off as he saw that it looked like she had something to say.

Alex gave him a soft smile. "I have to tell you something." She looked a little apprehensive before coming right out and telling him, "Yesterday at work, I was shutout by the other detectives."

Bobby blinked back as that registered in his head. Sitting up straighter, he asked, "What happened?"

She was rubbing at her head again and he wanted to reach up and stop her. It was distracting. "We're doing round-the-clock surveillance in Central Park; we have a likely sniper on the loose…"

"There's a sniper?" he asked, more concerned with that than the fact she was given the brush-off at work. "Is he targeting only people in the park?"

"Bobby," she cut his off as she finished. "None of the other detectives volunteered to work with me since Copeland was out."

A spark of panic went through him as he asked, "How long is he going to be out?"

"It was supposed to be until later today but once I told him what happened he cancelled his appointment. He told me that he promised you that he would look after me."

Feeling the panic easing, Bobby nodded as he relaxed a little. "He did, uh…Yeah, okay. I thought that they might start, um…_ignoring_ you. Pushing you out since you're with me, and what with all the rumors going around and my undercover work…" At seeing her look, he asked, "What?"

"That's it? I was expecting a much rasher response from you than that."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he willed his body to stay awake, his mind to stay awake, as he said, "What were you expecting? For me to rush off to Major Case and call them all out for a fight on the playground at recess?"

Alex rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove.

He chuckled as he saw that maybe she was expecting something like that. "Look, Alex…there's not much I can do about it. Copeland knows what's going on, so he'll be there." The pain it caused him to say that, to admit that he had to put his trust in another man to protect her, nearly ripped his heart out. "Just know that I trust him to have your back, so…you should give him that same trust."

Alex looked hard into his eyes before giving him a nod that she would, or at least try.

"I know that you can take care of yourself. You're strong, confident, you'll handle it okay. You're very capable of kicking their asses without me there anyway."

"I just can't believe they lost their trust in you so quickly."

Bobby wanted to laugh at that. "I hate to break it to you, but they never had trust in me to begin with. Who they trusted was you, and now…they feel that you've broken that trust. They're confused, angry, because they believe that your boyfriend, the weird cop they worked with for four years, turned on them…turned on _you, _but instead of leaving me, you're still with me. If I'm guilty…you're guilty by association." He felt the pain clench his chest as he softly told her, "Maybe it was a mistake having you move in."

"No," Alex said as she reached out and touched his face. "Don't think that. I don't want them to ruin this for us. I'm happy that I'm here, and I'm not leaving," she reassured him as she ran her hand through his hair.

At seeing the sincerity in her eyes, he smiled slightly as he leaned forward and kissed her. "Good, because I wasn't about to tell you to go, especially since it took me nearly an hour to hang those damn drapes."

Frowning at him, she said, "It took nearly an hour?"

Her hand was still caressing over his head, rubbing at his neck, and it felt really good. So good it was getting hard to concentrate. The room was starting to darken again as his eyes slid down. "Well, your brothers weren't exactly helping and I was drinking, and, uh…playing video games."

"I think Elliot living with you was a bad idea. He got you into playing games more than reading."

"I still read," he nearly whispered as he was drifting closer to the darkness. "Got my new Smithsonian in the mail…" His eyes closed completely as he drifted in the dark.

Hearing the alarm going off down the hall stirred him awake to an empty couch. His head was pounding as he looked around, he didn't see Alex anywhere. Then he heard silence as the alarm was turned off in the bedroom. His body felt too heavy to move but he managed to get off the couch as he turned the television off. Tossing the remote down on the cushions, he grabbed the coffee cup and grimaced at the cold coffee.

Once he had dumped the cold coffee out and refilled it with hot fresh coffee, he headed to the bedroom to start getting ready for work. Alex had already showered and was dressing as he entered the room. Stopping just inside the door, he watched as she moved around the room wearing only her underwear. Black lace and silk…Bobby didn't take his eyes off her even after she caught him staring.

"Adding voyeurism to your list of hobbies?" she asked before going back to pulling out a pair of her jeans from dresser.

Twisting his lips up into a goofy smile, he told her, "I thought I told you I like to watch." Stepping up to her back, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her shoulder as he wrapped his right arm around her waist; his left hand still holding the coffee cup.

"I was trying to let you sleep," she explained as she managed to slide her jeans up her legs with him holding her. "I forgot about the alarm being set so early."

Rubbing his thumb over her stomach, he kissed his way up her neck then spoke against her jaw, feeling the way it made her body shiver, "It's okay; I'll be fine. And if I have to, I'll use public transportation so I don't have to drive."

"Good thinking." Alex leaned back against him as she reached up and cupped his jaw; bringing his lips to hers, she started kissing him.

It was a very good thing he was half-asleep or else that would have caused him all kinds of discomfort. Alex turned in his arms and his breath caught as her breasts were pressed into his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. While they lazily kissed his fingers glided along her spine, over her sensitive skin, feeling her muscles tremble from the touch.

When Alex broke the kiss he groaned at the loss as she chuckled, then said, "In a few days, you can have all this."

Bobby laughed as he smiled down at her. "Hmm, can't wait." As he stepped away to let her finish getting dressed, he heard her ask from behind him.

"Just out of curiosity, and I promise not to get mad…Who's the other person who has your work cell number?"

Bobby took a sip off the coffee before setting it down on the dresser. "Doreen Whitlock," he answered as he walked into the closet and flicked on the light. He grabbed a suit, not caring about color, and then a dress shirt as he walked back into the room.

Alex had a look of concentration on her face as she buttoned her blouse. "Doreen Whitlock? The woman who had post-partum depression and blew up her kids?"

Tossing the suit on the bed and then the dress shirt, he finally took a moment to examine the colors before choosing which tie to wear. He also saw the clothes he had thrown in the dryer lying in separate piles on the bed. Alex must have finished doing the laundry. "Yeah, and like I said, it was unavoidable. I was helping my buddy with the custody case for the grandmother, and I gave her my number, the, uh, the grandmother. She gave it to Doreen. She called me once, thanked me for helping her mother get custody of her son," he absently told her as he went back into the closet to get a tie. Taking two, he stepped out and showed Alex the ties as he asked, "Which one?"

Rolling her eyes at his eagerness, she pointed to the one in his right hand. "The blue one. Red would seriously clash with your suit."

Chuckling at her explanation he put the red one back up and tossed the silk French blue tie on the bed. "You gave me that red one."

"To wear with the appropriate colored suit, not with all of them," she told him as she checked herself out in the mirror before going over to the bed. Looking at the suit, she said, "Armani, and…" she examined the inside of the dress shirt. "Joseph Abbound. You have such expensive taste in clothes. Your whole outfit cost you what…fifteen hundred?"

Bobby shifted in his stance as he said, "Actually, a little over two thousand," he told her as he left the room and headed to the bathroom. After his shower, he was tying his tie in front of the mirror on the closet door when Alex walked back into the room to grab her purse. "Tell me about this sniper."

Alex looked over at him and laughed a little. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stop thinking about that. There are three victims so far, one male, two female."

"The male, he was shot a few weeks ago, right? I read about that in the paper. I wondered who caught that case."

"Richie and Jefferies got that one. I got the first female victim a few days ago."

Bobby nodded as he straightened the tie. Satisfied with his appearance, he turned and went over to the bed and sat down as he picked his shoes up and slipped them on. "So, I take it the second female victim was sometime yesterday?"

"Yesterday morning," she told him as she smiled and crossed her arms. "What're you thinking?"

Giving her a smile in return, he said, "That your sniper isn't on a spree. I'm thinking that the man was target practice. If it was a spree killer, he wouldn't have waited weeks to shoot again, only days…sometimes hours. And it would have been more than one at a time but multiple victims."

"So," Alex said, picking up his line of thought, "if the first victim was practice, then that means the second victim, the woman, was who he was really after."

"Could be, but then why the third? Unless…"

"He botched the job and killed the wrong woman?" Alex sighed and shook her head. "Just great."

Bobby chuckled as he stood. Giving her a kiss, he said, "There are many theories. The second woman could have been the intended target all along, and the third was to throw you off, make it look like a spree. Or, all three are connected in some way, but, I highly doubt it if you haven't found a connection yet."

"Maybe there is a connection and we're just not finding it?"

Bobby leaned in closer, drawing her eyes to him as her frustration grew. "Hey, if there was one, you would have found it. Either way, focus on the two woman; they're your best leads at this point. And, if I'm right, you're not going to have to worry about anymore victims."

"What'd you mean _if_ you're right, you're always right. Well, most of the time," she teased before bringing him down for another kiss. "Thanks."

"For what?"

Sighing, she said, "I don't know, encouraging me, I guess."

Holding her eyes, he gave a nod, saying, "I know you don't need it."

"Bobby, everyone needs a little encouragement now and again," she told him before admitting, "I do have faith in you. You're one of the best cops I know. With me, or without me, I know you'll do your best. Always."

He didn't know what to say to that, but his heart clenched as those words filled it. All he could do was give a nod as he smiled a little. "Thanks. Uh…" he cleared his throat before he could get anything else of his rough throat. "Let me grab my stuff and you can give me a ride into the city."

"Where to?"

"Logan's apartment," he said as he went over to the dresser and pocketed his wallet then grabbed his watch. Slipping it on, he couldn't help the smile it brought to his face.

They dropped off at a diner a few blocks from the bridge and had breakfast before crossing into Manhattan. Knowing that Mike Logan wouldn't be respond well to his sudden appearance at his apartment, Bobby had Alex stop at a bakery not far from Logan's to pick his partner up a cup of coffee and a box of his favorite donuts. With a bag of a dozen chocolate glaze and two huge cups of coffee in hand, Alex gave him a kiss before he got out of her car.

"I'll try my best to make it tonight," Bobby told her through the car window. "Whatever happens, I'll call."

Alex had a wary smile, like she didn't believe him, but she nodded in agreement before telling him that she loved him.

In that moment, he felt the urge to say it back quiver throughout his whole being. His heart, his soul, and his mind were all screaming at him and it had surprised and overwhelmed him to the point that he couldn't say anything. Not even a simple acknowledgement.

Alex didn't give him time to shake the shock away before she was pulling away from the curb and headed in the direction of One Police Plaza. He watched the car turn the corner before he could move. He had never felt that since he was a child. When he had been so desperate of love that he would have said it to just about anyone if it meant he could get it in return. Before he realized that it wasn't worth it; that it only caused him pain and suffering.

His whole body shook as he breathed out, whispering into the cold air, "Love you too."

Bobby stepped away from the curb and somehow made it to the steps before he felt his knees buckle. Dropping to the stoop, he lost himself in thought, in his emotions, until he heard the door open behind him. Turning, he saw Logan standing above him.

Mike groaned and uttered, "Fucking great." Then more loudly he said, "What're you doing here, Goren?"

Bobby stared up at him as he tried to understand the question. Looking around the street, then at his hands, he suddenly remembered what he was doing there. "Oh, uh…I brought you breakfast," he said as he held up the bag and coffee. "I need a ride."

Stepping down the steps to get in front of him, Mike said, "What makes you think you can bribe me into forgiving you?"

Breathing out, he shook his head as he honestly told him, "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I-I, uh…" He didn't know what he was asking for, or expecting, except that he didn't want this partnership of theirs to crash and burn. "You know what's going to happen tonight and…I, uh…I can't-, no, I don't want to do this alone. I thought I could, but…I can't, Mike."

Mike gave him a long look before smirking. "Now, was that so hard?"

Tilting his head, he saw the teasing glint in Logan's eyes and felt like he was just played. "You know what, Logan…" he said as he got up and shoved the bag holding the box of donuts into his chest, "Why don't you just shut-up and drive, huh?"

Mike grabbed the bag as he lightly laughed. "Hey, Bobby, I was also wrong. We both were screwing this up, and I just want to say, you know, man-to-man that, well…" he breathed out as he struggled to get the words out.

Bobby felt the same embarrassment, and sympathy, as he eyed his feet as he nodded his own apology. "Me too, alright. Can we go now? The coffee's getting cold."

Mike smirked as they started for the car. "Chocolate?" he asked, gesturing to the bag.

"What else?"

"Yeah, I guess you're worth it. Me forgiving you, I mean."

Bobby watched as Logan rounded the car as he stopped at the passenger door. "I do trust you, Mike."

Mike looked at him as he unlocked the door. As he opened it to get in, he told him, "I know, but I still think you're nuts."

Yeah, and at the moment, so did he.

TBC…


	32. New Year's Eve pt 2

A/N: Thanks again and again for the reviews and to all those still reading! Okay, I wrote this chapter this way for a reason so I hope it works out.

Enjoy!

* * *

He knew just as well as any cop that half of police work was pure luck and the other was the payoff from a hard day's work. In most of his cases, it fell into a different realm altogether. He could create his own luck; manipulate situations, people, into giving him exactly what he wanted. It all took planning; hardly anything he did was by chance. Even when it was a decision made on the fly, in the seconds it took him to figure something out, to act, he had thought it out three to five steps ahead. How act one would trigger act two, setting up act three, and so on and so forth until most of the time the evidence presented itself. Or, someone fell right into his trap.

Earlier that day he had created his own luck and it had worked out perfectly.

_Pulling out the list of names he kept on him at all times, he re-read the name as he approached evidence lockup. Officer Nicholas Martin was on duty that morning and he was on the list. Folding the sheet, he tucked it into his pocket as he approached the storage room. Peering through the window, he smiled when he noticed it was vacant at the moment, minus Martin who was reading the paper._

_In his hands he carried two cups of coffee, one for him and one for the officer. Using his back, he pushed open the door and smiled at the officer._

_Martin looked up and once he spotted him he also smiled as he folded the paper. Setting it aside, he asked, "Detective Goren, what can I do you for?"_

_Bobby placed the cups down on the counter then leaned against the gate that separated them. "A favor, actually. Had your morning coffee yet?" he asked as he pushed the cup through the clearing._

_Martin eyed him then the cup before picking it up and taking a sip. "I'm listening, Detective."_

_He knew that he would have Martin's confidence, and his trust. It wasn't just because he know that the young cop looked up to him but it was because he had the trust of the Homicide cops and the Narc's. Leaning a little closer to the cop, he told him, "I need your help with something. The, uh, the thing is…I came across some evidence pertaining to one of my cases but…"_

"_But," Martin asked, taking another sip of the coffee._

_Rubbing at his neck, he said, "It was, uh…unofficial."_

_Martin stared up at him then looked toward the door._

_Bobby glanced behind him and saw another detective coming in. Moving away from the gate, he let the woman detective check her evidence in. He watched as Martin filled out the evidence collection sheet, signed his name on the list for 'chain of custody' and then went to fetch the box for that case._

_The woman, a cop he recognized working Vice, smiled at him once Martin left. "You're Goren, right?"_

_Smiling a little, he told her, "How'd you guess?"_

_She shrugged before answering, "I've heard about you."_

_That he didn't doubt. Bobby couldn't help but continue talking to her until Martin got back. "You heard about my looks? I didn't know rumors worked that way. And you're Detective…"_

_Chuckling, she told him, "Rizzoli," as she held out her hand._

_Giving her hand a shake, Bobby heard and saw Martin returning with the evidence box. Rizzoli turned back to the gate and finished putting her evidence into collection before smiling at him as she went to leave._

_With a hint of teasing, she told him as she walked by, "Stay out of trouble, detective."_

"_So that's what you've been hearing about me," he said with the same amount of teasing._

_Rizzoli just smiled before exiting the room, leaving him alone once again with Officer Martin._

"_If she wasn't married, I'd hit that."_

_Bobby leaned back against the gate as he told Martin, "You're not her type."_

_Martin looked up at him before smirking. "You're right, she was hitting on you…and she's married. Maybe she's getting a divorce and looking to rebound."_

"_About my situation," he changed the subject back to his reason for being there. "Think you can help me out?"_

_Martin didn't say anything as he pulled at a binder and a couple of folders. Pulling out some papers, he asked, "What was the initial date that you conducted the legal search?"_

"_Cameras?" he asked as he looked up toward the back of the room._

_Martin shook his head. "They're down for repairs. Bad wiring."_

_Bobby smiled as he pulled out another sheet of paper from his inside jacket pocket. "Everything you need is on that." He watched as Martin filled out the forms, dotted all the I's and crossed all the T's. "Oh, one more thing…It might be best if you weren't here for the actual…I mean, ignorance is bliss right? If anything was to happen…someone walked in…"_

_Martin got the hint as he gave a nod. "I take it you know the case number so you don't need me to get the box for you, just…" he said as he unhooked the keys from his belt and sat them on the counter. "Lockup when you're done."_

_He started to move away when Bobby suddenly reached out and knocked Martin's cup of coffee over, making it splash and spill over the officer's uniform._

"_Hey!" he yelped as he jumped back._

"_There," Bobby said as he took the keys. "Now you have a reason to go to the bathroom and make sure someone sees you. Yeah?" He only smiled as Martin glared at him as he unlocked the gate and headed for the door._

"_You got about two minutes."_

_As soon as Martin was gone, he gathered up the forms, folded them, and stuffed them inside his binder. Closing the gate, he locked it and then checked his watch. Two minutes later he left the storage room and walked down the hall in the direction of the stairwell and the men's restroom. _

_Martin was walking out as Bobby dumped right into him, clipping the keys back on the officer's belt._

_Bobby continued on but turned as he said, "Watch it, buddy, those keys could seriously hurt somebody."_

_Confused, Martin looked down and a look of surprised formed on his face as he saw the keys hanging on his belt. "How'd…?"_

_Bobby didn't wait to answer the guy before he was opening the door and ascending the steps and pulled out his cell phone to make a call._

_It was close to noon when he left the precinct on the pretense of making a lunch run. Instead of going to the diner down the street that he frequented, he drove twenty minutes out of his way to a bar he had never been in before. Parking in the lot behind the building, he watched the time and the side-street as the minutes ticked by._

_At exactly twelve-thirty, he got out and went in the back entrance, down the long hallway into the bar area, and then right out the front door. Looking around, he didn't see any familiar cars, no one watching, as he crossed the street to a Mediterranean cuisine restaurant and slipped inside. In one of the booths near the back and out of view, he spotted Garrison reading over a file._

_Slipping into the booth, he dropped his binder on the booth, took off his overcoat, and then clasped his hands together on top of the table as he waited. A waiter came and went, taking his order, before Garrison put the file down. Bobby didn't ask about it as he looked the man over before waiting in more silence until his drink was placed in front of him._

_Once the waiter was gone, Garrison said, "You're punctual."_

_Picking up the glass, he took a sip of the coke before telling him, "I'm a cop; I'm obsessed with the details." Bobby saw the smirk on Garrison's face as he said that._

"_Been here before?" Garrison asked after a moment._

_Shaking his head, Bobby told him, "I've heard about it but no."_

"_The food's amazing. You like Mediterranean food?"_

"_Love it, actually. When I was stationed in Southern Europe, in the Army, I fell in love with the food…and the women."_

_Garrison laughed a little as he said, "Never been to Europe. Always wanted to take a long vacation and go with my wife, ex-wife, but…Guess that'll never happen."_

_Bobby leaned back in the booth as he listened to the IA officer talk. It was the most personal they had gotten without it being a struggle for control, a battle of wills and intellect. They were just talking like a couple of men who happened to be having lunch together. "You could go…" he said, "just now you'll be single, which might be better for a man like you, don't you think?"_

_Garrison shifted in his seat and gave him an annoyed look. "That wasn't necessary, Bobby. Yeah, I fucked up and…"_

"_Cheated."_

"_Forgot my responsibilities."_

_Bobby tilted his head as he said, "That's one way of putting it. At least you're not blaming her."_

"_I did at first," Garrison told him as he leaned on the table and eyed his drink. "Told her that she wasn't loving me right, or some stupid thing like that. If she hadn't been so distant, making me feel like she didn't love me, making me go out and find love elsewhere…It was a lie of course. I was the distant one. She had no problem loving me at all. I didn't know how to love her. We should have never gotten married, but…isn't that what people do?" He gave him a sad smile before downing his drink. "Where the hell's our food?"_

_Bobby had yet to take his eyes off the man as he thought over what he had confessed to him. He didn't know why Garrison had told him all of that, or what he should say about it, if anything, so he didn't say anything. As he listened he started to empathize, like he did every time he took in a confession, and he felt the pain, the hurt, and the sorrow that was eating away at the man sitting across from him. It was enough to forget for a moment who Garrison was, the issues he had with him, and that feeling sent his mind reeling._

_Before he could think of anything to say, the waiter returned with a tray. After their plates were placed in front of them, and drinks refilled, Garrison said, "Tell me about Europe; what's it like over there?"_

"_Uh, well…" Bobby trailed off as he picked up a spoon and took a sip of the lentil soup, Mercimek Çorbasi. He hummed his pleasure before refocusing on what he was saying. "It's hard to say unless I know of a specific place you have in mind. Every country's different, unique in it's own way…much like the food."_

"_Ever been to France?"_

_Smiling, Bobby chuckled as he took his first bite of the Hünkar Be__g__endi he order. The taste of the herbs, roasted eggplant, kashar cheese, and lamb combined in his mouth and he closed his eyes for a moment as he chewed. Sighing he said after he swallowed, "I've been to just about every place in the five boroughs that serves this, and by far this is the best."_

_Garrison laughed as he told him, "Told you the food was amazing."_

"_I should have ordered wine with it but…I'm on the job." After a few more bites, he finally said, "France is a good place for wine and Paris was one of the uh…sexually explicit cities in the world."_

_Garrison frowned at him as he asked, "How's that?"_

"_Well, uh…" Bobby couldn't help but laugh at the memory of his first visit to that city. "Okay, I'll tell you a story. All right, my first day there, I mean right after me and my buddy's got off the train and started walking around…I'm not saying that the whole city or country's that way, just where we were. Anyway, we're walking and I start hearing a noise, like a whooping noise. I'm looking around trying to see where it's coming from; as we're approaching a corner, it gets louder, right? I start to hear it more clearly and I realize it's a woman's voice and she's whooping, or giving a yelp like every couple of seconds and I'm intrigued by this point, trying to figure out why a woman was doing that. The moment we turn the corner, I'm nearly kicked in the head by a leg swinging by me. I turn and…there's a woman on a swing, swinging out of a window, naked."_

_Garrison started laughing as he said, "You're lying."_

"_Dead serious," he told him "She was completely naked and-"_

"_And just swinging out into the sidewalk?"_

"_Yeah, and whooping every time she kicked her legs open."_

_Garrison shook his head but he was still smiling. "What'd you do?"_

_Bobby blushed slightly before telling him, "After we watched her for a while, we found the nearest ATM and hit up the bars. I also took in few shows, went to the theater, opera houses, and the library."_

_Garrison started laughing harder before getting out, "And it was perfectly legal, the woman on the swing I mean?"_

_Shrugging, he said chuckling himself, "I don't know about that but no one was trying to stop her. She was good looking too, very nice."_

"_Damn, I definitely have to go to Paris."_

_Bobby couldn't help but laugh as he shook his head. "Norway was an interesting place. We ended up there purely by accident. I had rented a car and we were just driving, I ended up on a bridge and kept going and after a while I saw this sign saying "Norway". Billings, that was one of the guys with me, another MP, he nearly had a heart attack. The only thing we had on us were our ID's, passports, and the rental agreement."_

"_But you got in?"_

_He nodded, "Yeah, the border guards saw that we were American soldiers and after checking our ID's told us to have a good time. I bet now if you go over there that wouldn't happen, but back then we could go just about anywhere without any worries."_

"_Any naked women in Norway?"_

_Bobby laughed but shook his head. "I'm sure there were but none that I seen, not like that anyway. The craziest thing about Norway was that they, uh…they have this honor system. Or they had it, I'm not sure if they still do, I'll have to look it up."_

_Garrison took a bite of his food as he asked, "What'd you mean?"_

_He took a drink of his coke before explaining, "Just that…Okay, an example was that we were wandering around the town, checking out the stores and places to eat, and I got thirsty. Seeing a, uh, a soda machine, you know, on the corner, I go up to it and I start looking for prices, right? I don't see any so I hit the button for a soda, you do that here and the machine displays the price…I hit the button and instead of seeing a price, I get a can of coke."_

"_Wait," Garrison said as he sat his fork down. "You hit the button and without paying you got your drink?"_

_Bobby nodded. "Yeah. I was stunned but then I thought, maybe someone had put money in and decided not to get anything and walked away or, uh, there was a glitch or something. So, I hit it again and I got another can of coke. At this point I think something's wrong with the machine. I look around and see a cop, across the street, so I wave him over and tell him. He says, it's the honor system. That I put money in the machine after I get my soda. I ask him how much and he tells me 'whatever you got'. I put in a dollars worth of change so not to feel like a crook."_

"_So, you're telling me that you could have put in a damn nickel?"_

"_I'm certain that you're supposed to put in the amount for the can of soda but…people probably put in a nickel if they didn't have enough. Or nothing at all."_

_Shaking his head, Garrison said, "Wow. Imagine that over here? No one would pay. Soda machines would go out of business."_

"_Exactly why we have to pay first. It must work over there, more honest people I guess." Bobby finished off his meal and sighed in satisfaction of how wonderful it tasted. Draining his glass, he finally decided it was time to address work, and the reason they were there, "We, uh…Logan, and I, we decided to implement your, uh…suggestion."_

"_Suggestion?" Garrison asked as he took the last bite of his food._

"_About fracturing our partnership. It sort-of happened anyway, yesterday we got into it…We were able to work things out, but we agreed that you were right. He's backing off in order to be able to be my backup. With whatever's going down tonight, with the Narcotics detectives, Logan's ready on the sidelines."_

"_Do you know yet what that'll be?"_

"_Other than that we'll be on a boat, I have no idea. Stapleton was very vague about everything, but it wasn't just with me. He didn't let any of us know the whole deal of what was going down." Rubbing at his jaw, he looked around and then reached into his binder. Pulling out the receipt book and the forms he got from Officer Martin, he handed them over to Garrison. "Merry belated Christmas," he said with a smirk as the IA officer took them from him._

_Garrison didn't even look over the papers as he eyed him. "You said that you collected this illegally? How'd…"_

"_Officer Nicolas Martin drew them up for me," he smiled before saying, "this morning."_

_Garrison was stunned for a moment before he gave a laugh as he shook his head. "Have I told you how brilliant you are? Can it be proven he did this? That he tampered with evidence, chain of custody…committed fraud?"_

_Bobby gave a nod as he told him, "The information I gave him for the forms…Everything matches the Sullivan case except for one thing, the case serial. I, uh, mistakenly switched the first two numbers; his handwriting, his signature is on every form…It'll hold up in court."_

_Garrison was still grinning as he put the forms along with the receipt book in the suitcase that was on the floor. "That everything?"_

_Nodding, Bobby pulled out his wallet and handed him the money for his half of the bill. "If I get change back, let the waiter keep it. I gotta go," he said as he grabbed his binder and stood._

"_You know what Goren, if things don't work out for you with the department you'll make one hell of an IA officer. Ever think about it?"_

_Shaking his head, he told him, "No, not really."_

"_Why not? You don't want to go after dirty cops?" Garrison asked as he took a sip of his drink._

"_I already go after dirty cops," he told him as he slipped his overcoat on. "See you around."_

"_Hey, good luck tonight," Garrison told him as he started for the door._

_Bobby waved to the IA officer as he passed the waiter on his way out. Good luck, he was going to need it._

Now, nearly eight hours later, he was hoping to create more of that same luck. Strapping the holster with his gun in it around his left leg, he was reminded of his Army days when he was assigned to a task force patrolling the Middle Eastern borders. It was a collaborative effort among all the branches of the military and it had been a hell of a lot of fun. He was even coxswain trained and could drive a boat easily. There was a lot more to it than just steering and working the motors.

Grabbing his bulletproof vest, he strapped the Velcro straps down. Out of habit, and ritual, he tapped the breastplate twice over his heart before pulling on his turtleneck then grabbed his coat. As he zipped up the zipper, he pushed the door open and immediately felt the cool air hit him as he stepped outside. He had been the last to arrive but he hadn't been late.

The boots he wore made it easy to walk across the snowy ice covered dock as he stuffed his hands into his pockets to pull out the gloves. They were police issue and fitted his hands like a second skin. Even if his gun got wet or slippery he wouldn't drop it. Stopping just outside of the gathered group near the edge, Bobby blew out a breath of air as he stared at the two boats tied up.

Stapleton stepped up to him and clasped him on the shoulder. "I appreciate this, Bobby. Everything fit all right?"

He gave a nod as he took a new pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He hadn't smoked in weeks, but he was going to need them tonight. It wasn't to subdue a craving, but to subdue his stress. The act itself was calming as he unwrapped the foil then opened the pack. Taking one out, he offered it to Stapleton who took it from him. Putting one in his mouth, he lit Stapleton's before his own.

"Nervous?"

Bobby gave another nod as he took a long drag then blew out the smoke.

"Honestly…so am I."

He looked at the Narcotics detective and saw it in his eyes; Stapleton really was nervous, and maybe even a little afraid. It reminded him that despite their horribly misguided ambitions, the detectives were just men; guys like him who thought the only way to do things was to do the wrong things, and maybe that would lead them to eventually getting to the good. At least, that was what he always thought; what he got from the group of men he had to entrust himself to. That explanation was the easiest way for him to rationalize the magnitude of chaos that clouded the waters as to why they were all doing what they were doing.

As he stood there, looking out at where the dark ocean met the even darker sky, Bobby tried to think of something potent and encouraging to say for the situation they found themselves in. There wasn't much he could think of outside of his own plan of action and what he had to prepare for. So, he decided to share what it was that was running around inside his head. "Have you ever served in the military, Stapleton?"

"No."

Bobby took another puff off the cigarette before saying, "When I was in the Army, my commanding officer, Lieutenant Dan Snyder, he, uh, he wasn't a man of many words. He had a bad speech impediment so he choose to delegate, uh…with short, simple phrases. Then, one day, we found ourselves faced with a dangerous, possibly deadly operation, and we all looked to him for his guidance. Being the young man that I was, I hadn't responded well to him at first; I was really bad with authority figures, didn't trust them…I'm still that way…but, anyway…" he smiled at the memory as he kept his eyes on the horizon. "When Lieutenant Snyder stood before us and said, 'Gentlemen, I'm an Officer in the greatest Army in the world. I shouldn't even be on the front lines, but I'm a soldier and I fight where I'm told, and I win where I fight'. It was an General Patton quote, well, part of it was. It didn't matter to me because after that…I swore I would follow that man anywhere, even to Hell and back."

Finishing his cigarette, he tossed the butt into the water then turned fully to face Stapleton. Right then it didn't matter to him that Stapleton was a corrupt cop or that he was out to take that man down. What mattered to him was that his life was in the cops hands, and vice versa.

Leveling the cop with his eyes, Bobby told him, "Every time I find myself facing a dangerous situation, I think of that. I carry it with me, always. I'm a stubborn man and I hate to lose, Stapleton. I refuse to fail. I had to fight for everything I ever wanted, or thought I needed, since I was kid. I've won some, but I've lost a hell of a lot…but I'm telling you right here and now, with this, I will _not_ lose. _We_ will _not_ lose, you got that? We will be going home tonight."

Stapleton stared at him for a long moment and he wasn't surprised to see something very human cross the man's eyes. He watched as the cop had fought back tears of gratitude before he could speak; taking a short puff off the cigarette, he nodded a little before saying, "Thanks, and you're right. We're walking away from this."

Bobby wasn't expecting anything more than that as he patted the cop on the shoulder. "Just remember to watch my six…and I'll have yours."

Stapleton smiled as he said, "Count on it. We're going to be in three teams of two. Three men on each boat. Fox and Demarco are our drivers, so they will stay with the boats, acting as lookouts. They'll only be needed if all hell breaks loose. Young and Jules are our backup."

Bobby took that in as he gave a nod. So, it was him and Stapleton who would do the dealing, or whatever it was they were doing. He was also glad that Jules would be backing them up since he didn't know Demarco, having met him when he arrived. The only thing he had issues with was Young; the guy was too impatient and a hothead. Though it seemed like Fox and Demarco were chosen solely for the purpose of driving the boats. "When do we, uh…disembark?"

Stapleton laughed a little as he told him, "How 'bout now." Looking back at the cops who were gathered in the van they had all rode in to the dock, he yelled out, "Okay, guys, it's party time! Let's get going."

Minutes later the tossed the mooring line to Stapleton as he stepped onboard the boat and then opened the door to the cockpit. Fox was at the helm and he gave him a nod before starting the engines and maneuvering them away from the dock and out into the open, international waters. Huddling into a seat with Stapleton across from him, he kept his eyes on his boots as he stilled his pounding heart and racing mind. Feeling the itching sweat building up around his wrist, he reached up his sleeve and slid off his watch. Looking at the time, he saw it was after nine. Alex's party was starting.

Running his thumb over the lettering around the edges and then along the back, he inwardly promised her that he would see her again. He put the watch in one of the pockets in his pants and zipped it up so not to lose it. Rubbing at his wrist, and then his head, he could do nothing more then to sit and wait.

The world was buzzing around him; sounds were static to his ears as the streets and the lights blurred around him. He barely remembered walking away from the boat or the blood that dripped off his hands along with the water that soaked his body. It was only his luck that the heater worked on the boat or he would have probably froze to death.

His head throbbed as his body shook but it wasn't from the cold, but the memory of what had happened an hour ago. He still couldn't wrap his head around it; how it had all turned so horribly bad when it had gone so perfect…Maybe too perfect.

_The world exploded as gunfire erupted around him. Instinct told him to drop, to let his legs give and just hit the floor, but his eyes never left Stapleton as he plowed into him and sent them both into the wall before they hit the floor behind the desk. As more gunfire filled the air, he covered the cop with his body until the bursts stopped. His gun was in his hand and he didn't even remember pulling it. That reaction was pure muscle memory and it had saved his life because as soon as he rolled off Stapleton and looked up, he fired three rounds into the man above him who was pointing a gun at his head._

_He had recognized the man he had shot; remembered him from a month ago in the same bar he had met the mob boss Paul Savoie. The man was Steve, Savoie's bodyguard, and he had just shot and killed him. Not giving anymore thought to that realization, he turned and checked Stapleton's pulse. It was there but it was slow and shallow. Pulling his hand away, he registered the blood as he lifted the man off the floor. His knee almost gave as he got Stapleton's heavy body over his shoulder and carried him out of the room. _

_More gunfire erupted down the hall but he didn't look back as he rounded a corner and saw Young and Jules hurrying his way. Jules pushed him against the bulkhead as he fired back at whoever it was that was coming their way. Raising his gun, he took aim at a dark figure fast approaching and returned fire._

"_Get them out of here!" Young yelled. "Go!"_

_Jules grabbed him and pushed him toward the door and out onto the side deck of the mega-yacht. _

"_You first," he told Jules as he rounded a corner and approached the ladder leading down to the boats. "I'll pass him down to you."_

_Jules climbed over the railing and got half way down the ladder before dropping the rest of the way. "Okay, send him down," he called up to him._

_Shifting Stapleton off his shoulder and over the railing, he lowered him down to both Jules and Fox, Demarco held a gun and was keeping them cover. Letting Stapleton drop the rest of the way so not to fall over the side from the weight pulling at him, he watched as they caught the unconscious cop before turning back to the door. He could still hear gunfire and then as he started toward the corner and to the open door, Young nearly ran right into him._

"_Go, Bobby, go, they're coming!"_

_He didn't have time to understand who the 'they' were but he wasn't about to stick around to find out. As he went for the ladder, keeping his gun trained on the corner he saw three men with semi-automatic's charge around it. They got off at least six rounds each before he heard a strangled cry from Young before a splash in the water below._

_Two men were down but the last one got away from him, retreating around the corner. He turned, shoved his gun into the leg holster, and then grabbed the railing before catapulting himself off the side of the yacht. As soon as his body hit the water, his chest froze. Pulling himself to the surface, he gasped for air as he broke water and his body numbed. Looking around, he saw Young struggling to stay above water a few feet from him. It took him a couple of long, desperate seconds to get to him and pull him along with him to the side of the boat where Jules tossed him a life-ring and pulled them both in._

_Once they were on the deck, panting for air, Fox gunned the engines and they were gone in a matter of seconds. Trembling against the assault of deathly numbness and cold, he unzipped his jacket and tossed it before unsnapping the holster and un-strapping it from his leg._

_Pulling the door to the cockpit open, he told Fox, "Ssslow th-the boat down, l-let 'em catch up to us!"_

_The moment the other boat caught up with them, he climbed up onto the side and waited until Demarco got the boat right up alongside theirs before jumping over onto the other boat. He didn't have to say anything before they were back to gunning it as fast as they could back to shore._

_Opening the door, he saw Stapleton lying on the floor bleeding. Immediately getting to his knees despite the pain that nearly crippled him, he pulled off the man's jacket, ripped open his turtleneck, and then pulled off the bulletproof vest. There were two wounds but only one was serious…life-threatening. In order to get to it, he had to pull the man's pants down. Tugging opening the belt, he pulled the pants past the waist and nearly cursed at what he saw. First-aid kit?" he asked even though he knew it wouldn't matter._

"_Under the seat."_

_He found the gaze and pressed them directly into the wound that was below the gut, near the groin, as he closed his eyes. If his biology was correct, the bullet had either went right through the artery or nicked it; that was why the blood was gushing and it wasn't stopping. The only way to stop it would be to clamp it. They needed a hospital, a doctor, a fucking surgeon, and maybe then they would've had a chance at saving his life._

_Feeling his stomach recoil, he never noticed the heat that warmed his body, the heat that saved him from shock and hyperthermia, as he watched Stapleton take in one last strangled breath before his life faded. His hands still shook as he checked for a pulse but there was none to be found._

"_What happened?" Demarco frantically asked._

_He barely heard the words as he leaned back against the seat and felt his head spin, never taking his eyes off the lifeless body._

"_Goren, what the hell happened back there?"_

_Shaking his head, all he got out was a stunned, yet calm, "A setup. We walked right into a fucking ambush."_

"_By who? Who were you busting? Whose yacht was that?"_

_He felt the trembling in his voice as he told him, "Savoie…Paul Savoie."_

_And he had just killed Steve, Savoie's personal bodyguard, because he had killed Stapleton._

TBC…

P.S. I know, it was a short chapter, but the next one will make up for it. It's going to be um...interesting, to say the least.


	33. New Year's Eve pt 3

A/N: Reviews make me so happy! Another chapter for you wonderful readers!

Also, disclaimer: I own nothin'.

* * *

He let Jules, Stapleton's partner, stay with him on the boat as he sent everyone else home. Young had been shot twice in the chest which caused him to loose his balance and fall off the yacht, but thanks to the bulletproof vest he was okay. Fox and Demarco, both looking too shocked and in disbelief to do much of anything, were grateful that he took charge of the decision making. They had to pull Young away from the scene but eventually they all left, leaving him in relatively silence.

Bobby dried off his hands, taking away the blood that had covered them just minutes earlier, and then tossed the paper towels away. The towels missed the trash can due to the shakiness of his hands and for some reason that ignited his rage. He kicked at the can, sending it back into a corner and then without relenting, he kicked it over and over again as he screamed and cursed at the burning in his eyes. When the sounds registered in his pounding ears he realized he was cursing the man that had been killed. He was yelling at Stapleton.

Then, as his voice trembled as the burning tears finally dried, he found himself apologizing as he leaned into the wall. He didn't mean it. Stapleton wasn't a son-of-a-bitch or any of the other, much profane, things he had just said about the man. Yeah, Stapleton was corrupted and did some horrible things, but he didn't want the man dead. He didn't want him to suffer like that, or his family to suffer due to his death. He remembered Stapleton telling him that he had a wife and a kid, a son.

His anger was starting to build again but this time he was able to restrain it as he took a couple of moments to breathe. The bulletproof vest he wore was pulling heavily on his shoulders from the water that had collected in it. He was still wet and trembling because of the water. Reaching up, he stepped away from the wall as he removed the vest, letting it drop to the floor in a puddle of water.

Unzipping his cargo pants pocket, he pulled out his watch and when he saw that it had stopped working, he nearly punched the wall. Damn it, he should have remembered to leave it in his car, like his cell phone and wallet. It could be fixed, but just knowing that he had ruined Alex's gift to him made him angry. Slipping it back on his right wrist, despite the fact it didn't work, he felt better. He had missed the weight of it and how it reminded him of Alex every time he looked at it.

In the back of Stapleton's SUV was a bag with a change of clothes in it along with his suit that he had worn that day at work and overcoat. Leaving the building, he pulled out Stapleton's keys from one of the pockets in his pants that zipped closed and went to the truck. After he used some towels to dry off the best he could he changed and pulled on his overcoat before leaving the building. Hearing a car approaching, he saw a familiar vehicle pull up next to him. In the passenger seat was Rivers, the driver was Jackson.

Bobby reached into his right coat pocket as he stepped up to the car and pressed only two buttons on the cell phone, knowing the person he called would pick up. Sliding the phone into the sleeve of his coat, he pulled his right arm out and put it on top of the car, over the rolled down window while he leaned down.

"Jackson," he greeted the cop as he peered into the car.

"Where are they?" Jackson asked.

Bobby tilted his head toward the boats as he said, "We didn't move him. Jules is in there with him…I sent Young, Fox, and Demarco home."

Jackson was watching him as Rivers kept his eyes straight ahead. Bobby wasn't sure what the two men were thinking, but he felt the somber mood of both. They had known Stapleton longer and worked with him on many more occasions. Hell, they were probably friends.

Bobby breathed out as he said, "I'll stay if you need me."

"No," Jackson retorted as he shook his head. "We appreciate it, but you're probably eager to leave and-"

"I'm not eager to go anywhere," he told him. "I was with Stapleton, alright. I watched him get shot by Savoie's bodyguard…He died in my arms while trying to save him. I-I want to make sure that…that you don't screw this up."

The reason the two homicide detectives were there was to 'clean-up' this mess. It couldn't be officially report because none of them had any official business doing what they had just done. If they called it in, it would cause problems for everyone involved. Bobby had to play the part and that was to try to help cover the murder of Stapleton up. He didn't want to use the death of a colleague to his advantage, but it was already set in motion.

He had yet to get anything solid on Jackson and Rivers, and this, having them do what they could to cover this up, would be all he needed to solidify the case for Internal Affairs.

"Bobby," Jackson was saying, "I know. I feel you. You feel responsible and you want to help, but you have to get yourself away from this. Jules is going to be harder to convince, he was his partner." Leveling him with a pleading look, he asked, "Think you can help us with that? Get Jules out of here and let us handle it."

Bobby bit his bottom lip as he acted like he was actually taking that into consideration. "I don't know, man. This is…Have you done this before? When Jules told me to call you guys in, I…I wasn't sure, I mean, I trust you and Rivers but…"

Jackson held up his hand to cut him off, saying, "You've got nothin' to worry about. This isn't our first time; yeah, our first cop, a friend, but we'll make sure it doesn't get back to what happened here, or to you. You can trust me on that."

He looked to Rives as he asked, "What about you, Rivers?" Bobby knew that Rivers had a problem with him, so he had to see what the young, cocky detective would say. Plus it would be nice to get his voice on tape…so to speak.

Rivers looked up at him for the first time and gave a nod, saying, "You can trust us, Goren. We got your back, and everyone else's."

Looking as grateful as he could, Bobby nodded before backing away from the car and dropping his arm to his side before stuffing it into his pocket. He dropped the phone and ended the call as he said, "Okay…I'll, uh, I'll see if I can get Jules to leave with me. We both rode here with Stapleton," he pointed to the SUV. "What do you want me to do with that?"

"You got the keys?"

Bobby nodded. "They were in his pocket."

Jackson sat at thought for a moment, before telling him, "You're goin' have to get a cab or something. We can't let you leave with that SUV."

Breathing out into the cold air, Bobby nodded as he pulled out the keys and handed them off to Rivers. Trying to convince Jules to leave with him was going to be extremely difficult.

Sometime later, he was staring at the roof of a taxi and couldn't remember half the ride. The world was buzzing around him; sounds were static to his ears as the streets and the lights blurred around him. He barely remembered walking away from the boat or the blood that dripped off his hands along with the water that soaked his body. It was only his luck that the heater worked on the boat or he would have probably froze to death.

His head throbbed as his body shook but it wasn't from the cold, but the memory of what had happened an hour ago. He still couldn't wrap his head around it; how it had all turned so horribly bad when it had gone so perfect…Maybe too perfect.

He kept replaying everything in his head, over and over much like how he kept kicking that trash can. With each kick, or thought about what had happened, the pain and anger built and vibrated throughout his whole body and mind. Jules was next to him, and he had only spoken once telling the cab driver where to go. It wasn't to his home, but to a bar.

Yeah, he needed a drink right then as well. A whole bottle all to himself.

They were in Manhattan, having taken the taxi all the way there from Staten Island. The taxi pulled up beside another car, but Jules stared through the window at the bar without getting out. Bobby noticed the men that were walking in and out of it and realized it was a cop bar; one he never frequented.

"Wanna come in?" Jules asked without looking at him.

Bobby really didn't want to go in there, but the man was hurting. He was hurting. He could go in, buy the cop a beer, and then go home. While he was there, he could check the messages left on his cell phone. "Yeah, okay."

They both put in some money for the cab ride before getting out. The moment he stepped in, Bobby wanted to step right back out. The bar was loud and packed, causing his body to tense with uncertainty. It wasn't just due to the mass of people and feeling like he was suffocating, but some of the looks that were thrown his way by several detectives and cops.

Sliding onto a stool next to Jules, he said, "Just one, then I gotta go."

Jules nodded but didn't say anything as he ordered a beer. Bobby did the same and told the bartender to put Jules beer on his tab.

"You don't have to buy me a beer, Bobby."

Shaking his head, he turned to the guy and leveled him with a look. "You just lost your partner." Then, not knowing why, he apologized, "I'm sorry…I should have-"

"It wasn't your fault," Jules told him as he stared at the bar top. "These things happen."

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't this resigned reserve. Bobby was expecting a fight, some anger…He was expecting Jules to beat the shit out of him. If that had been Alex…No, he wasn't even going to think that. Turning away from the Narcotics detective, he pulled out his cell phone to check the messages when he felt someone move up beside his left side.

Glancing over, he stilled as Dwight 'Wyatt' Travis, Lance Sullivan's partner in both law and crime, slid onto the stool next to him. Bobby blinked at him then looked to his right to see Jules rubbing at his head and downing the beer before ordering another one.

Looking back to the Staten Island homicide detective, he said, "What're you doing here?"

Travis shrugged nonchalantly as he simply said, "It's New Year's." Raising his beer bottle he grinned a little. "A toast?"

Bobby didn't feel like toasting the new year having just lost a cop, a colleague, just a few hours earlier. Picking up his beer, he stared hard at the detective as he barely clicked his bottle against his.

"To Lance Sullivan," Travis said. "And all our other fallen brothers we lost this year."

Bobby barely moved as he took a sip of the beer. He wondered if Travis knew that Stapleton had been killed that night, but then again would it matter?

"I'm getting a breather," Jules told him before walking toward the back of the bar.

He stared after Jules and at that moment suddenly felt very much alone.

* * *

She couldn't stop thinking about that morning and what her and Bobby had discussed. Part of his inability to keep quiet she knew was due to his exhaustion. He was always more open, more expressive of his feelings, when he hadn't had enough sleep. She worked the exact opposite. When she was tired, she closed up or got more irritable and sarcastic, which he called her out on that morning.

It was something she hadn't been consciously aware of, holding back in her own thoughts when talking with him, but he, of course, picked up on it right away. It had unnerved her how he could read her so well, even when he was half asleep. She knew what he was telling her, how she would hold back. Sometimes everything felt so overwhelming it was easier to not say anything. It just seemed to make it easier than getting into an argument, especially that early in the morning.

What happened that morning wasn't necessary an argument, more like an heated disagreement and they were able to move past it and be relatively okay. And she had been right, and honest, when saying that what she feared the most about being in another relationship with a cop was how personal everything became. How she couldn't keep the professional strictly professional and the personal just that, personal. The lines blended and it was hard to see what was off limits and what wasn't. And with Bobby she knew that there were a lot of things that were still off limits.

Professionally she had been able to accept Bobby for Bobby. It was so much easier when they were just partners to look the other way on certain things. Being in a personal relationship with him was a completely different beast altogether. That morning she had confronted a small part of that beast. She didn't know how she really felt about Bobby corresponding with criminals. Writing them in prison and talking to them on the phone like it was nothing; just a normal every day thing.

Two years they've been together, not including their two month separation, and he still kept so much of his life and himself private. Two years and she didn't even know his father's first name, or anything about his brother except his name was Frank and that he was a gambler, much like their dad. Then there was his mother whom he visited once a week and called every day but she still didn't know much about his visits or what they talked about.

Bobby knew just about everything about her. Her childhood, her family, her brothers and sisters, Joe, her time as a beat cop and working in Vice. Her selling matches on the steps of City Hall in the dead of winter when she was a kid. The time she tended bar to pay her rent along with attending the police academy. All of that he knew, some before they were became intimate, some after but within the first few months.

It was his life and he was going to live it the way he wanted to live it. Alex admired his persistence, his stubbornness, but at the same time she hated it. It was just one more thing that solidified to her that no matter how much she had Bobby, she would never have Bobby. Not completely anyway. Or no matter how much she thought she knew him, she would never completely know him.

For some reason, she actually felt okay with that. She was still happy to be with him. She still wanted to be with him. And she couldn't wait to see him when they both finally got home. Looking at the clock, she wondered again where he was and why he hadn't called. It was after nine.

She had left him three messages. One telling him that she would be late getting home, which she was. Since it was New Year's Eve and not knowing for certain if their sniper was a spree shooter, they had to put in a few extra hours of surveillance work in the park before they were relieved. She had to cancel her party but that was okay. Her family was used to it.

"What're you thinking about?"

Alex glanced over to Copeland as she stopped at a light and groaned yet again at the mass of cars and people in the city. "I'm thinking that this night sucks."

Harry laughed as he kept looking around. At least he wasn't glued to his cell phone. "It's all the tourists that make it suck. You know, I know no New Yorker who actually goes to Times Square to watch the ball drop."

"When I was seventeen I went."

"And?"

Alex crept along the road as she said, "Never again." Before she could get to the intersection the light changed red again. "Damn. We're never going to get back to the department. I might as well park and walk, be faster."

"Are you making any resolutions?"

"I'm resolute-ing not to shoot you right now. Does that count?" she sarcastically asked back. She was getting really annoyed with Harry's game of twenty questions.

Harry looked over at her and smiled, "My resolution is to remain at Major Case as your partner."

"That's more like wishful thinking."

"Aren't most resolutions wishes? And who actually does them? No one."

Staring hard at the light that wouldn't ever turn green, she pounded the horn. "Come on you damn light! Change already," she groaned in frustration.

"Is Bobby expecting you or something? You two got hot plans?"

Alex glanced over at him and said, "Harry, if you ask me one more question you're walking."

His eyes lit up as he sat up straighter in the seat. "Really? I can leave? Why didn't you say so! Seriously, you need to cool down and take it easy. We're almost there."

"Twenty blocks isn't almost there with a thousand people trying to jaywalk in front of you every two seconds."

"Want me to drive?" he teasingly asked.

"Harry," Alex said as she smirked over at him. "That's another question."

Smiling, Harry gestured toward the street. "Light's green."

* * *

Instead of checking his messages, Bobby sent a text to Logan telling him where he was and to come meet him. After ordering another beer, he asked, "So, I guess we can have that talk now, right?"

Travis had just returned from using the men's room and once he took a sip of his drink, he said, "Guess so."

Bobby waited a beat before asking, "What did you want to-"

"Lance," Travis told him, cutting him off, as he leaned in closely to his left ear. "I know you talked to him. C'mon, Bobby, you actually think I don't know what's going on?"

At that, Bobby felt his muscles stiffen as his mind panicked. Looking around, he didn't see Jules anywhere. What was taking that guy so damn long?

"You think you can come up into my house, talk to my guys, to my boy, and I would just stand idling by while you take it over."

He realized immediately what Travis was hinting at and it sent a twisted stinging ball of acid through is gut. Leaning into the detective, he told him as sincerely as he could, "I'm not trying to take anything over."

"Save it, man. You can't fool me. I can see it in you, in how you're playing everyone around you. Then tonight with the Narc's…I tried to warn them-"

"Who?"

Smiling, Travis said, "Who'd you think? Rivers, Slug…Hell, even Stapleton. And now look where we're at. Stapleton's dead, you're girlfriend's talking to IA-"

"She's not talking to anyone," he stressed as he got right back into Travis's face. The man wanted him to be intimidated, feel scared; too bad he was the master at hiding both. "That's been taken care of and dealt with."

"You're compromised. IA's all over you." Travis looked away for a moment, toward the crowd of off-duty cops. Bobby noticed that there were a lot from his old squad, Major Case. "Lance, he got compromised. He panicked…But," he looked back at him, saying, "I'm sure you already know about that."

Bobby felt a few of those missing pieces start to click into place and what it was forming stilled his heart as he realized where this was heading. Had he been set up? Was this why Jules wanted to come here and why he had taken off? Looking around, he wondered where Jules had gone? Was he still in the bar?

"It wasn't lost on me how after you talked to Lance that you started to get cozy with Jackson, Rivers…Moving in on our territory."

"On _your_ territory," Bobby finished for him. "This isn't about you, Travis. Okay. This wasn't my-"

"You brought Savoie to us. Now we got a dead cop and a pissed off mob boss." Travis huffed out a soft laugh. "Look around you. How'd you think these cops would react to you if they thought any of what IA's saying about you were true?"

Bobby looked straight ahead, in the mirror's reflection as he saw the gathering cops eyeing him with a look in their eyes that spoke in volumes. He would be very lucky to get out of there without a scratch on him, or worse…conscious. New Year's Eve at a cop bar…It was a mistake. "What'd you tell them?" he asked, pertaining to the cops he was eyeing right back through the mirror.

"Not a whole lot, just confirmed for them exactly what kind of cop you really are. What kind of cop we entrusted ourselves to…who Alex Eames entrusted herself to. Us real cops don't take too kindly to one of our own being manipulated and lied to by a deceiving, dirty cop like you. You're a traitor to them now, Bobby."

_Him, the traitor? _Bobby felt the burning in his eyes as he felt that hit him. He may have been a traitor to the corrupted cops, but he was never one to the NYPD, or to Alex. He as so angry, he felt like crying. Turning to Travis, he leveled him with his eyes as he told him, "Whatever happens here…I'm not backing down. Not from you, not from them…I go down, we all go down."

The look of regret along with pain filled Travis's eyes before he looked away. "I'm sorry to hear you say that."

"Fuck you and your apology. It doesn't matter now, does it," Bobby said as he picked up the beer and downed it. He motioned for the bartender to get him another. He was going to need it.

"Guess not." Travis went to walk away before stopping and turning back to him. "Remember, keep your guard up. Jab with the right, hit with your left," he mimicked the boxing moves before laughing lightly and turning away.

Bobby watched as the corrupt cop left the bar and as the door shut he felt the air in the room grow tighter, thicker. This had been set up. As soon as he made that phone call to Jackson, he had set it all in motion. He did this to himself. The first act had led to the second, which set up the third…and now, checkmate.

Picking up his third beer, he returned his focus to the mirror and saw them approaching from behind. As he took a drink, he heard the song change and then the music started to play over the speakers. In the silence that had engulfed the room, the lyrics could be heard as clearly as if the band was playing right there in that small cop bar. He recognized the song by the band _Creedence Clearwater Rival _and had to shake his head at the irony of it.

_Someone told me long ago, there's a calm before the storm_

_I know, it's been comin' for some time_

He gripped the bottle in his hand as he took in those words. Wasn't that the truth? Bobby always knew, or at least feared, that something like this would happen. That one day his 'brothers in blue' would turn on him. He just always thought it would be because they found out that he was working for Internal Affairs…which he was. Not that he was a corrupt cop who had, according to Travis, been mistreating Eames, lying to her, and manipulating not only her by the entire NYPD.

_When it's over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day_

_I know, shinin' down like water_

He saw the glint of light reflected off the bottle as he blocked the arm from coming down on him. Gripping harder on his own beer bottle, Bobby swung it across the cops head. The moment he heard it shatter, it was like a signal to the rest of them. Before he could get another swing in, all hell broke loose.

Through all the chaos, and the fists flying at him from all directions, he could still hear the lyrics that seemed to engulf his head.

_I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?_

Someone knocked him in the side, driving him away from the mob of pissed off drunken cops, and sent him landing on top of a table. Glass shattered around and under him as he barely registered who it was who plowed into him. It was one of his fellow colleagues from Major Case, Andrews. Andrews drew back his arm to hit him but before it could come down, Bobby jabbed him hard in the throat before hitting him in the face. Blood rained down on him from Andrews's broken nose as he brought his knee up and drove it into Andrews' groin before flipping him onto the floor.

_I want to know, have you ever seen the rain,_

_Comin' down on a sunny day?_

Bobby kicked at another cop who charged his way, catching him in the gut before rolling off the table and barely catching his balance, ducked away from a flaying arm coming toward him. Hooking his arm with the drunk cops, he threw him to the floor but there were too many of them. One against what looked to be hundreds.

_Yesterday, and days before, sun is cold and rain is hard_

_I know, been that way for all my time_

Arms wrapped around him from behind and he tried to get whoever it was off his back but another pair of arms took hold and he knew that he was going to lose this fight. The panic that flared in his head gripped his fears as he nearly collapsed from the assault of memories from years ago. Fears stemmed from his abduction, from the torture he had endured by Tim Landy…from his rape.

_He jerked and tried to get out of the man's hold, but he was too weak. Tim threw him forward, against the cage, and elbowed him in the back of the head. His face slammed against the top of the cage as Tim leaned his full weight on him to hold him down. His arm was yanked around and tied to the top of the cage, and then the other. He felt his body succumb to the position of lying over the cage and sighed in defeat. There was no way he was getting out of the tight binds. Glancing back into the darkness and tried to search for any glimpse of the man who had him. A fist connected with his head, banging his face back against the bars._

An arm was jammed into the back of his neck, forcing his head down and forward; glaring up, the amount of anger that was pulsing through him made some of the cops pause in their approach. Pause being the operative word because they didn't stop. Trying to not tense up, to give into the panic, and to loosen his tightened jaw as much as possible to lessen the force of the impact, he closed his eyes as the first blow nearly made his knees collapse.

_His right hand struggled against the ropes as the whip landed on his back, sending his body jerking forward. Biting down hard on his lip, he tried not to scream out as the spasm of pain rippled through his muscles. It was getting harder to stay conscious and focused._ _His back muscles trembled as he gripped the ropes that bound his hands to the hook and braced for the impending strike. What pounded into his left shoulder wasn't the whip, but a solid metal bar. His sweaty hand lost the grip on the rope as his body jerked down from the force; he felt his right wrist twist violently before he heard the snap. Nothing could hold back his scream as he bellowed into the room. _

The ringing started in his ears after the third or fourth hit to his face and it took everything he had not to blacken out as he was hit again in his ribs. He winced as his muscles tightened and then spasmed against the pain. Another fist connected to the same side and he hoped none of his ribs broke as a crippling pain flared along his left side.

Opening his eyes, as the hot tears of pain and anger threatened to blind him, he barely caught sight of the next cop coming up to get his turn at him. Tasting blood on his lips and in his mouth, he spit it out on the floor in front of the cop as he straightened to as much as his full height as he could as the last two lyrics of the song skidded in and out of his ears like static.

_I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?_

_Comin' down on a sunny day?_

The impact of the fist against his temple sent a shock wave through his head. His vision lit up in white hot electricity.

_He felt an icy numbness run through his body as an animalistic rage reared, taking control of every part of his body and soul. He heard a terrifying noise that shook him to his bones. It was primal and instinctive, and it was coming from his throat._

His throat locked as he tried to get out a breath to breathe, to scream, but nothing came out as his weightless body slacked. The last thing he remembered was seeing the edges of his vision go grey just before it blackened.

A moment later, his hearing was the first to respond as he heard nothing but silence right before something hard drove into his gut. He choked on his tongue and air as he instantly tried to huddle himself in the fetal position trying to protect himself. Not bothering to open his eyes, he covered his head as he felt more and more kicks to his legs, his back, his knees.

He had to stop this, and there was only one way to do it.

Using his trembling and cut up left hand, he quickly reached behind his back and grabbed his gun that was digging into his back. Whipping it out he turned onto his back, aimed, then fired.

The gunshot was like a whistle being blown in a boxing match as everyone stopped moving, stopped breathing, as they all stared around each other, looking for a gunshot wound.

Luckily for everyone, there wasn't one. He had aimed at the ceiling. "The next one…" Bobby gritted out of his tensed throat, "will be aimed for your fucking head," he told the cop standing above him. He was trembling with so much rage that he was shocked that he hadn't blown the cops head off in the first place.

All of them must have seen it in him because they all backed away, giving him room to get up onto unsteady legs. Keeping the gun trained on whoever ended up in front of him, he went to walk toward the door when he heard a voice cut through the deafening silence.

"What the hell's going on in here! Back away! I said back the fuck away, now!"

Bobby blinked through the fog in his eyes as he watched as Mike pushed his way through the crowd of cops.

At spotting him, Mike's face dropped. "Jesus…Bobby, are you okay?" Then, at registering the gun, he swallowed hard as he looked around at the cops who didn't try to hide the blood on their hands. Turning back to him, he told him, "C'mon, put the gun away and let's get out of here. Bobby, please. Lower your weapon…"

Taking in a few deep breaths, he got out of his blood stained mouth, "Stop begging, Logan…my head hurts."

Mike smiled a little as he slowly made his way over to him. "Then do it already."

It took him a moment to push his rage down to get himself to lower his weapon. As he did, Mike grabbed him around the shoulders and helped him toward the door. He felt the room tilt, but he was able to keep from falling over and taking Logan with him.

He didn't bother to look at any of the people gathered around and watching as his partner escorted him out of the bar. He chose to ignore them like they had ignored the cop that they knew him to be. They all should have known that Travis had lied, but they were so eager to put the blame on someone…

The fucking bastards.

Stepping out into the night air with Mike holding him up for support, Bobby nearly passed out from the sheer relief that he had shown up and saved him from having to shoot somebody to get out of there.

"I think you need to go to the ER."

Bobby shook his head as he said, "I can manage."

"I can call an ambulance for you," Mike said, apparently not hearing him; or ignoring him.

Bobby shook his head and immediately regretted doing so. Wincing at the pain it causing in doing so, he said, "Don't. I…I don't want them to know."

Mike looked up at him in shock. "Bobby, you were just assaulted by other cops."

"Exactly why I don't want it reported. I don't want it out there…for IA to show up. Just, let it go."

He could tell that he was putting Logan in a bind. Mike didn't want to do it; he looked like he wanted to go back up into that bar and shoot every last one of those guys. Breathing out, Mike finally put his phone away before pulling him in the direction of the car.

"Alright, have it your way. My car's over here."

Bobby let Mike take him to his car and then once in he rested back in the seat and closed his eyes. "Is it 2005 yet?"

Huffing out a laugh, Mike told him, "We still got one more hour."

"Think I'll be able to get home in time to kiss Alex at midnight?"

"You should, if that's where-" Mike was cut off as the police radio in the car crackled.

As dispatch relayed a report of a traffic accident, Bobby went to turn it off when he heard the unit number that was involved in the crash. It was Unit 226...That was Major Case…

It was Eames and Copeland's unit number.

"Bobby?"

"That's Alex," he spoke; his voice sounding like it was miles away.

"Are you sure?"

Bobby glared at Mike. "It's her," he snapped. "Can you get us there?"

Mike was already moving the car out into traffic as he stared coldly at him. He didn't think he could feel any more numb than he had moments before lying on the barroom floor until he heard that over the radio. "3rd and-"

"I know," Mike said as he tried to go as fast as he could through the heavy traffic but they were barely moving along the busy Manhattan streets.

Staring out the window and at the lights of cars not moving around him, Bobby couldn't stay still any longer. Opening the door, he jumped out.

"Bobby! Wait…"

Whatever Logan was yelling at him faded as he ran, pushing and shoving his way through the mass of people trying to get to Times Square or to some New Year's party. Bobby felt the pain ignite a fire in his side as he ran but as long as he was still breathing then the pain didn't matter. Moving in and around people, he darted across streets with no regard if cars were moving or not. At the corner, he took a left and headed north along 3rd toward Central Park. In his panic, he barely registered any other noises besides the pounding of his heart and the raging of blood in his ears.

Abandoning the packed sidewalk, he charged up the street in-between stopped cars as he closed in on the intersection. He could see the swirling lights from cop cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance, but what made his heart drop was the helicopter flying overhead. The chopper wasn't from a news station, it was there to airlift someone out.

Pushing his way through a crowd of bystanders, he was brought to a stop but only briefly by a patrol cop keeping people back, away from the scene.

"Hey!" the cop yelled at him. "Stop! You can't-"

Bobby had his shield out and showed the cop without stopping as he ducked under the tape and it was only then at he stopped moving. That his body felt like giving up and sending him crumbling to the ground. Glass was scattered all over the pavement, broken car parts littered the ground he walked over as he spotted the car first. The blue Lexus was halfway on the sidewalk, half up onto a parked car. There was blood on the hood but no body was in the car because half of the windshield was missing. He saw a patrol cop further down the sidewalk and looking at the ground, he saw the white sheet with blood spots covering the ejected body.

Blinking back, he looked away as he fought the bile that rose up in his throat. His mind had yet to switch to 'cop mode' because this wasn't no ordinary crash. This wasn't his case and that SUV that was wrapped around the light pole on the opposite corner was no ordinary SUV. A Dodge Ram truck was in the middle of road, its front end was completely demolished and the driver side door was hanging wide open and there were EMT's along with firefighters working on that driver.

There were EMT's and firefighters at the SUV as well. Bobby made his way over to it as his legs felt heavy, numb, as he saw that the pole was literally in the middle of the vehicle. The driver's side was bashed in, looking like the Dodge had t-boned it, which he would find out later to be the case. He heard something hit the ground and as he looked at his shoes he realized he had been holding his cell phone. Picking it up, he saw the missed messages blinking up at him from Alex and closed the phone.

Stuffing the phone into his pocket, he stopped in front of the SUV and peered inside. At seeing Harry Copeland, his stomach churned as the EMT's worked on the cop as the firefighters worked to pry the metal away from the pole. Copeland's legs were pinned between something that looked liked the passenger seat and the metal light pole.

"Oh…Jesus," he breathed out of his dry throat.

"Sir, are you all right? Sir!"

It took him a moment for him to realize that someone was talking to him. Bobby looked at the EMT and nodded.

"You're bleeding. Were you involved in the crash?"

Shaking his head, Bobby held up his shield before asking the guy, "Alex…the uh, the driver, the woman…Where-?"

The EMT pointed over his shoulder. "She's in the bus."

Bobby looked through the frantic movements of the emergency workers who were busy strapping the driver to the truck to the stretcher to be airlifted out when he saw her. Alex was sitting up in the back of an ambulance. He almost collapsed at seeing her. Making his way over to her, she had yet to see him. She was looking in his direction but he had yet to enter her mind, her sight.

The light of the helicopter circling above blinded him for a second but as soon as it was gone, he saw her eyes and she saw his. Alex looked shocked for a moment before he saw tears fill her eyes.

Bobby felt the same tears in his eyes as he took a few more steps and pulled her into his arms. He couldn't speak as he held her to him. She was safe and felt warm, alive, and that was all that mattered to him right then.

Alex was shaking, trembling, and crying but that was okay. "Oh, God, Bobby," she said as her voice trembled. "How is he, do you know?"

Closing his eyes, he told her, "It doesn't look good."

Alex gripped him harder as she seemed content on just holding him against her body. He was perfectly fine with that. Whatever she wanted. "I didn't even see the truck until it was too late. He ran the light and-…I turned the wheel, trying to lessen the impact but the other car was there and…"

"Shhh, hey," Bobby said as he moved back a little to kiss her. Pulling away, he said, "Alex, take a breath, okay. How are you?" He finally registered that she was possibly hurt and that maybe hugging her had been a bad idea. Stepping back, he looked her over and the sling holding up her left arm clicked in his mind and so did the cuts, bruises, and the blood on her clothing. "What happened to your arm?" he asked as he continued to look her over.

"It went through the window…I think. I need a cast; they think it's broken."

Bobby winced at that but nodded. "Anything else?"

"My ribs and chest are killing me, my head…I hit the door pretty hard, and the steering wheel. Harry," she said as her voice trembled. "He leaned over me, pulled the wheel around so that…" the tears poured from her eyes as she finished, "that he would hit the pole instead of me. If-if I had hit it, been the one…"

Bobby took a deep breath as she told him that and the burning in his eyes became too painful to keep the tears at bay. Reaching up, he wiped his eyes before setting down next to her and pulling her into his arms. "He'll be okay, Alex. We just have to hope he'll make it through."

She nodded against him before saying, "I've been hoping, praying, this whole time."

Not knowing what to say, Bobby held her tighter even though his body, his ribs protested the movement. They both watched as the driver to the truck was airlifted and then so was Harry Copeland.

"What happened to you?"

There was so much going through his head that he didn't understand the question at first. What had happened to him minutes prior now seemed unimportant, insignificant to what had happened to her, to Copeland and everyone else involved in that crash. "Nothing happened to me," Bobby told her as he watched as Mike Logan appeared in the crowd of cops and EMT's, talking on his cell phone as he approached them.

Stopping in front of them, Mike winced at he took in Alex's appearance. He looked like he wanted to say something clever and smart just then but all he said was, "They need to take you to the hospital now."

Alex nodded as she shifted against him. Looking up to him, she asked, "Can you ride with me?"

"I need to talk to Goren," Mike said. "It can't wait."

Leaning down, Bobby gave Alex a kiss before getting up and stepping away with Mike. "I'll be right back," he told her before he turned to Logan. "What is it?"

Mike was playing with his cell phone and looking a lot paler, and older, as he told him, "A couple of things. Garrison wants this operation put to an end, like now."

Bobby nodded at that. "Okay," he shrugged out. "So, it's over. We got enough evidence on everyone anyway. And once one of them falls…domino effect." The way Mike looked at him, he knew there was something else. "Mike?"

"The driver, in the truck. It was, Bobby," he breathed out before telling him, "It was Jules. The guy dead on the sidewalk, who was in the car, another cop…Officer Lipinsky,"

"But that…" Bobby went to say when the implication of what that meant registered in his throbbing head. Stepping back, he felt the rage along with the confusion and a little bit of denial boiling up as he looked at Mike. "What're you trying to say that…that they…" he couldn't get the words out. It hurt too damn much to say them.

Mike had no problem as he finished for him, "They tried to kill her."

_They tried to kill her. _He couldn't breathe. Running his hand through his hair, Bobby fought down the anger as he looked around the at the buildings, the bystanders, the cops.

"Do you have any idea why they would target Alex?"

Glancing to the street, Bobby said, "Yeah, uh…they thought she was talking to IA. Plus, she's with me, so…Why not take her out to, right? Or, you know, maybe this was Jules way of paying me back. He blamed me for Stapleton dying…getting killed, he goes after her. Two birds, one fucking truck-"

"Bobby," Mike warned as he stepped up to him. "We need to talk about this. Settle down."

"Set-settle down," he yelled as he stared hard at Logan. Bobby felt the rage break in him and there would be nothing that was going to settle him down ever again. Not until this was over. "You're telling me to settle down when Alex could've been killed tonight! While Copeland's fighting for his life and possibly going to lose his fucking legs and you're telling me to settle down!"

Mike didn't miss a beat as he said, "Yeah. So shut the fuck up and settle the fuck down."

They stared hard at one other until Bobby breathed out and shook his head. "Garrison wants this over. I'll make it over," he said before he turned and walked away, heading to the ambulance where Alex was waiting for him.

He had all of them, every last one of them were going to go down in a fucking blaze if he had anything to say about it.

TBC…

P.S. I'm planning on expanding on what happened on that yacht in the next chapter. It's all starting to come to a close, whether or not everything will be tied up in a nice little package and bow is pretty much out of the question. Real life isn't that neat and tidy, and neither is this story, obviously, but there will be closure of a sorts.


	34. Love can't fix everything

A/N: Okay, I deeply apologize for my lack in updates but I had a good reason! I took a months vacation and while I was gone I didn't think about or do anything; it felt wonderful!

And, a more important note: this chapter isn't in chronological order. The scenes jump around but I'm sure you smart people will be able to keep up with the shift in time.

Enjoy!

* * *

Leaning his head down on the table, he took a moment to actually let himself feel the pain in his body. Everything hurt and his knee felt like it had been dislocated; the nurse had told him it hadn't, or at least that was what he thought she had said. The only thing that helped was the brace he still wore, but now it felt tight around his leg. There was no doubt in his mind that his knee had swelled from the running, carrying Stapleton on his shoulders, and trying to swim in ice cold water. His back and the left side of his chest were on fire as the muscles spasmed with every breath he took.

The breaths were raspy and they rippled through his tight and burning chest. It had to have been from running in the cold air, along with being in that water earlier. He hadn't swallowed any of the water, and he was certain none of it got into his lungs. The nurse had checked that as well, his lungs, and she didn't say anything about the possibility of pneumonia. Despite everything that had happened, he was okay. Nothing permanate.

He couldn't say the same for Alex and Copeland. Alex was hurting, and possibly blaming herself, for what had happened. Her arm was broken, she had a mild concussion, and some bruising and cuts. Other than that, physically she was okay as well. Emotionally she wasn't and he knew it even though she had told him in the ambulance that she was fine.

_She had refused to sit on the gurney, saying that she was fine. The EMT tried to convince her but she gave him that look; the same look she gave him whenever he tried to get her to do something she didn't want to do. He admired the EMT for not backing down…right away, of course, because she had eventually won the staring contest. Normally, he would have found the exchange amusing. Normally he would have smirked or joined in on the protest. Normally he would have done a lot of things differently._

_There was nothing normal about this. Nothing normal about riding in the back of an ambulance that was screaming through the streets of Manhattan toward the nearest hospital. Her hair was matted where the blood had dried from the laceration on the left side of her head. Dried blood was on her clothes along with gulls that clung to the cuts she had received from the windows that had shattered around her, from the metal bending and breaking, and from Copeland. _

_He wondered how much blood was hers and how much was his. He wondered if the helicopter that was taking Copeland to the hospital arrived yet. Who had been called? If the man was still breathing…How Alex was going to react to all of this. _

_Then, as the wailing of the sirens faded from his consciousness, he leaned back and Alex disappeared from his sight as the world blurred around him. He lost himself in thoughts about the cops at the bar. Would he tell Alex that her colleagues, the cops that she entrusted herself to each and every day at work, had turned their backs on him? Had took all their anger and frustration out on him and that was what had happened to him tonight? What had happened after Stapleton was killed…_

_The doors to the ambulance opened, breaking him from his thoughts as his eyes found Alex. She was watching him and the look was one of concern. He was really starting to get sick and tired of that look, but he knew that as long as they knew each other she would feel that way about him. That he would cause her reasons to be concerned._

_It would never stop._

"_You okay?" she asked, ignoring the EMT who was trying to get her, and him, out of the ambulance._

_No, he wasn't. So he answered, "Sure. I'm fine," before easing out of the ambulance and then through the sliding hospital doors._

He had lied of course. That lie wasn't the first, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. It was the nature of the beast that resided in him, and her as well because it was obvious to him and everyone around that she wasn't fine. And now, he didn't know what. His head pounded and he couldn't think beyond the pain. The room was quiet but it wouldn't be for long.

He had been escorted there by the Chief of Detectives, Yarrow, and was told to wait until everyone else arrived. Everyone else included only two other people: Captain Deakins, because he was his union rep, and Mike Logan. He knew what the Chief wanted to know but he wasn't in the mood to talk about it with anyone. The only person that should know what happened on that boat was Garrison. Not the Chief. Not Deakins, and not even Logan.

The less they all knew the better. It would've been okay for them to know if everything had turned out perfectly. It hadn't. A cop had been killed; corrupt or not, it ached something deep in his heart and soul which twisted the guilt that wrecked throughout his body. He shouldn't feel guilty, but he did.

The guilt wasn't just for Stapleton but for what happened to Alex, even the events that had lead up to his attack. He was responsible for all of it. He had tried to control the chaos from reaching out to her yet with every attempt it had been the move that had lead exactly to that moment. To Jules getting into that truck and plowing it into the side of their SUV.

He hadn't been in control of anything. It had all been an illusion. It had meant absolutely nothing.

The door opened behind him but he didn't turn to see who it was, but there were a few people coming in. Once he heard the door close, he looked around at everyone gathered in the room.

Logan sat to his left while Deakins took the seat on his right. Even though Deakins was his union rep, he doubted his former Captain would be needed for that reason. The only people who knew that Deakins knew of the IA operation were himself, Garrison, and Alex. He was actually surprised that Yarrow wanted Deakins there. Then, he realized, it didn't matter. As of a few hours ago the IA operation was officially over. He had called Garrison once he was left alone in the room.

It was done. Garrison had enough to get the ball rolling and they hoped it was enough for a RICO case against everyone involved. The arrests wouldn't be immediate; Garrison wanted to get him clear of it all first before the shit really hit the fan; plus, with the call he received from Jackson, there was something else going on that would blow the whole Connelly case out of the water. Lance Sullivan had nothing to do with the murders; the only way Jackson knew that was because he knew who killed the Connelly's and why.

A month later and he was coming around to the case that started this whole thing. The case that was still an unsolved and sitting in some file folder somewhere. A murder that seemed to be connected to everything; he believed in his gut that it was the key to it all.

As Yarrow looked across the table at him, Bobby suddenly felt like throwing in the towel. He felt like burning the bridge that would get him back over the Hudson and into the Major Case Squad. At that moment, he didn't really care about anything.

He had failed.

He may have succeeded with getting Garrison enough information to take down the corrupt cops of Staten Island, but it had come with a bigger cost than he expected. He knew that there would be blood, but he didn't think for a moment that it would be Alex's or Copeland's. He hadn't thought it would end in the death of Stapleton.

"Detective," Yarrow started before Bobby suddenly raised his hand, cutting him off.

It was a bold move to make with the Chief, but he had come to a conclusion. Shifting in the seat, Bobby cleared his throat as he said, "Sir, before you continue I want you to know that I have no intention of answering any questions pertaining to what happened tonight, specifically…with what happened with me."

Yarrow looked to Deakins who leaned back in his seat but didn't say anything. Deakins choose instead to keep his eyes on the table. Logan mumbled something before rubbing at his head before getting up to leave.

"Detective Logan, I need your statement."

"I'm not giving you one," Logan shot back before clarifying. "I wasn't there."

Bobby heard the door open and then shut before Yarrow narrowed his eyes directly into his and then sighed heavily in frustration.

"Now, listen Goren. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you how important it is for me to know the events that occurred this evening. I've got two dead cops, two on life support, one with a broken arm, and you along with about ten other cops looking like they've been in a fight. It just so happened that a bar fight was reported several hours ago at a bar that all those cops frequent, and it was only a few miles from where your girlfriend and her partner were involved in that crash that involved two other cops both of which were with the Staten Island PD."

Bobby gave a nod before asking, "Who's the second cop dead? Only Officer Lipinski died at the scene of the crash."

Yarrow leaned on the table and dropped his voice, "We received an anonymous call about forty minutes ago. The body of Narcotics detective Jeffery Stapleton was found; he'd been shot twice. I think you know him."

Bobby felt Deakins eyeing him. Glancing to his former captain, he addressed the Chief, "I know him, yeah."

"And his death?" Yarrow asked in a low voice, like this was only meant for the two of them despite Deakins being there.

Bobby eyed the table before he answered, "I'm not…at the liberty to-"

"Detective, do I need to remind you why you're here?"

"No, sir," Bobby said as he looked up at Yarrow. "But do I need to remind you?" He threw the question back at the Chief. "Until I am given the go ahead from IA, and my contact, I can't talk about it. Not even off the record…sir," he added for extra measure before he got up.

"I haven't dismissed you."

Bobby waved him off as he said, "I'm dismissing myself. I told you I can't answer your questions at this time." He pulled the door open and left the room as he heard the Chief yelling after him.

Rubbing at his head, Bobby wished he'd taken the nurse up on her offer of those pain killers. It felt like he was dying it hurt so bad. Pulling out his cell phone, he left the hospital as he made a phone call.

A couple of minutes later he walked into the diner and saw Alex at a back booth waiting for him. She smiled and got up as he approached the table to give him a hug. It seemed like she was in extra need of physical contact so he held her close until she moved away.

Instead of sitting across from her, he slid in the booth beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned into his side and just sat there. He shouldn't have been surprised by her need to be close to him but he was. While she wanted closeness, he wanted distance.

It was what he was used to. When he was in a crisis or when things became too emotional for him to handle, he needed to distance himself from it all or he feared being swallowed up. He could block himself off mentally, emotionally, but it was hard to get away physically, especially now.

He had tried to earlier, when they had first arrived at the hospital, but no matter how far he had tried to run, to get away, Alex had found him.

* * *

Bobby was unusually quiet as he kept staring at her from across the room. His face was bruised, his bottom lips busted, there was a small gash under his left eye, and he was favoring his left side yet claimed that nothing had happened. That he was fine.

Alex felt too tired to argue the point, to get to the truth of why he looked as if he'd gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson, but she didn't say anything.

Another reason why she didn't say anything was because of the pain killers they had given her. She couldn't feel much of anything at the moment as they set her arm in a cast and bandaged her cuts, wrapped her ribs, and checked her vitals again. They had looked after Bobby as well while he stood there watching her. He had refused to leave her side along with treatment. Yet, even though he was there in the room with her he was a million miles away.

He had distant himself from what was going on, and the pain they were both in. She knew that he had shut himself down. Sighing, she let him think. She let him close himself off in order to protect himself. Later, she hoped that he would open back up. She doubted it.

A woman nurse came in and ordered him to take his shirt, well shirts, off, and Alex saw the tension in his neck as he had blatantly told her to go to hell. When the nurse informed him that he was bleeding from his back he finally gave in to the request and started to undress. As he slowly took his clothes off, he continued to stare at her from across the room.

Once he grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, she flinched at the bruising covering his body. Most of the bruises were on his left side. The nurse rounded to his back and took in a sharp breath. Alex bit her lip as she watched as Bobby didn't even flinch, or seem to register what was going on around him. His sole focus on her was a little unnerving.

"Are these scars recent?" the nurse asked.

Bobby didn't answer so she did. Clearing her throat, Alex told her, "That happened a few years ago. What's there that is recent?"

The nurse looked up at Bobby from behind before looking at her over his shoulder. "A lot of tiny cuts, scrapes, and one deep laceration causing all this blood. It's going to need stitches. There're some fragments of tiny shreds of broken glass." She used a pair of tweezers and once again not even a flinch from Bobby. "Brown glass, like beer bottles."

Alex stared hard into his eyes as she asked, "What happened?"

Bobby blinked but didn't say anything as he slowly sat down and let out a sigh. She could see he was having trouble breathing. The right side of his body looked red but nothing compared to his left. A lot of right-handed hitters?

While the nurse tended to him, Alex excused herself from the room. They had yet to restrain her to a room so she used the time she was free to get the both of them a cup of coffee from the cafeteria; she also used the time to check on Harry.

They had taken him straight to surgery when he arrived and that was where he still remained, in surgery. As soon as she stepped off the elevator and entered the waiting room, she stopped as she saw all the cops gathered in the room. For it being New Year's Eve, there was a heavy turnout for her partner. Most she didn't recognized, but knew they had to be from Copeland's old precinct where he worked Homicide. The rest she did recognize; they were Major Case detectives along with Captain Deakins, who was down the hall on his cell phone. He had yet to see her but she wasn't the one in surgery. She wasn't the one with an uncertain future. She realized as she walked over to the nurses's station that not one of them would look her in the eye.

She took a few of them in and noticed that they looked to have been drinking. One of the detectives, Andrews, looked to have been in the same fight Bobby had been in. His nose was broken and there were cuts on his hands. Walking by him to the nurses station, she asked, "What happened to you?"

Andrews barely glanced at her before turning away with a look of guilt and something else she couldn't quite place darkening his features.

Not understanding that look, or his silence toward her, Alex shook it off as she stopped at the nurses' desk and pulled out her shield and ID. "I'm Detective Eames. My partner's Harry Copeland."

The woman behind the desk shook her head before she had finished speaking. "I'm sorry, Detective, but Mr. Copeland is still in surgery and no one has told me anything yet. As soon as I learn anything, you'll be the first to know."

Alex looked to the set of double doors and sighed heavily as she rubbed at her head. "Please, if there's anything," she said as she pulled out one of her cards and handed it to her. "We were together when…I was driving…He saved me."

She took the card from her and gave her a sincere, sad, smile. "Like I said, you'll be the first to know. I'll page you or call, promise."

"Thank you," Alex said before heading to the cafeteria.

It wasn't until she was leaving the café, and balancing two cups of Starbucks coffee in one hand, that she realized no one had asked about her or Bobby. As she rounded the corner to the elevator, Deakins was coming her way.

Taking a cup from her before she dropped it, he asked, "How're you holding up?"

"How'd you think?" she nearly snapped before she caught herself. Shaking her head, she apologized, "Sorry, Captain. I'm not really focused on me right now."

Deakins gave her a look of sympathy as he hit the button for her. "I heard Bobby's here too; what's that about?"

Alex shook her head as she explained, "He showed up at the crash scene. It looks like he'd been in a fight or something. Bruising on his face, his chest, cuts on his back from broken beer bottles…" she stopped talking when Deakins features darkened. "What is it?"

Deakins stepped onto the elevator with her but didn't answer as he asked, "What floor?"

She told him and then nothing. They were both silent as the elevator took them down two floors to the first floor. It wasn't that long of a walk to the room that Bobby was in, getting his back stitched up. Taking the cup from Deakins, she handed it to Bobby before sitting down on the opposite bed.

Bobby nodded his thanks but still hadn't said anything since telling the nurse off about undressing. In fact, he had been unusually silent since having a talk with Logan before going with her to the hospital.

Deakins watched him with a look of concern and…Was that guilt? Alex tried to understand what was going on. The looks, the silence, the guilt in her co-workers, her Captain, but she herself was on edge from the crash so maybe she was just imagining the tension.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Deakins asked Bobby.

Bobby kept his head down and eyes on the floor as he shook his head.

Breathing out heavily, Deakins told him, "Lieutenant Williams is on her way. So are Captain Reyes and Lieutenant Newton from the Staten Island Narcotics squad, Sergeant O'Hara from Patrol…Copeland's uncle, the Assistant Chief of D's, is out of town but he's on his way. As for the Chief, he just got here. He'll be upstairs checking on Copeland first, but then he wants to talk to you specifically."

She saw Bobby tense but he didn't say anything as he gave a nod. It was like Deakins was talking to a brick wall. No reaction at all and that concerned her deeply.

She saw someone else walking in behind Deakins. It was Mike Logan; he shook Deakins hand and then regarded Bobby in silence as he watched as the nurse finished wrapping a bandage around the middle of his chest then secure it.

After the nurse was done, she told Bobby, "I'll let the doctor know that you need x-rays."

"Nothing's broken," Bobby said as he grabbed his dress shirt. Slipping his arms through it, he winced slightly. "Maybe fractured, but nothing's cracked." Picking up his t-shirt, he tossed it into the trash before he started to button the shirt.

"He did run about two miles to that crash," Logan said as they looked at him. He shrugged at the looks. "He did. Jumped right out of the car and took off. If his ribs were broken, he wouldn't have made it three steps."

The nurse gave a nod, made some remarks on the clipboard, and then told him, "We'll still get you those x-rays to be on the safe side. In the meantime, I'll get you a prescription-"

"I don't want any pain pills."

"You're going to need them."

Bobby glared at the nurse before telling her, "I don't want to be on kind of narcotic, understand?"

The nurse didn't even look up as she wrote on the sheet of paper and then left.

Once the nurse was gone, Alex looked to Logan and asked, "So, what happened? Bobby's not talking-"

"Nothing happened," Bobby said again. Staring hard at her from across the room as he picked up the tie and jumped off the bed.

"Like hell," she snapped. She was getting sick of this.

Bobby grabbed his suit jacket and pulled it on before stuffing the tie into the pocket. His face was trying not to show his pain but she could see it in his eyes.

"Bobby, stop being stubborn and sit down before you pass out. You're in pain."

"I'll get over it," he said before getting his overcoat and pushing pass both men out the door.

Sighing, she shook her head as Logan followed. Alex regarded Deakins for a long moment before asking, "You know something?"

Deakins smiled as he gave a tight laugh. "He came to me a few weeks ago to talk."

"So, you know," she said as a fact, not a question.

Nodding, Deakins answered anyway. "I do, and I just hope this is the end of it."

"What'd you mean?"

Deakins looked at her but didn't answer that question; instead, he said, "Let's get go check of Harry. I'm sure they know something about his condition by now."

* * *

As soon as he left the hospital room, he asked, "How did he get the truck?" Bobby spotted the Chief of D's at the receptionist's desk and immediately walked into Mike, guiding him to an elevator.

Mike turned into him, blocking him from being seen by the Chief. "You're going to have to face him sooner or later."

"I'd rather it be later. The truck?" Bobby asked again as he hit the button to go up.

"The plates came back to a Christopher Grier, but get this. He's in lockup."

Bobby nodded as the doors opened and they stepped into the elevator. As the doors were closing, he heard the Chief calling after him. He didn't sound too happy.

"You should have just bitten the bullet."

"It's not like I'm leaving the hospital," Bobby said as he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "So, Grier is in lockup and I'm guessing that means his truck was in impound. I'm guessing whoever got it out didn't sign for it."

"I haven't gotten that far yet, but you're probably right. I doubt a cop would've been so stupid as to document taking property out that was then used in an intentional hit on two other police officers."

Bobby shook his head, trying to clear it from the images that wouldn't go away. Images of Copeland being cut out of that SUV, of Alex sitting in the ambulance with her arm broken. All the blood and glass and the dead officer on the sidewalk. "The amount of damage they did, Jules and Lipinski…and being there at the exact same time…" he looked over at Logan as the doors opened. "Officer Lipinski had to have been following them."

"Why Lipinski?"

Bobby stepped into the hospital hallway as he said, "Because, I called Jackson and Rivers out to the docks?"

Mike stopped walking. "You don't think they were the ones initially meant to take them out do you?"

Bobby had stopped walking and turned halfway around to face Mike. He had been trying to piece everything together since leaving that crash scene, especially why Officer Lipinski was there seeing how the guy was so low on the totem pole to be trusted with the knowledge, and the actual act, of trying to kill two fellow cops. "I know that they were following her before. And now, they were being followed again, but by a-a, uh, a nobody like Lipinski? Was he in his own car?"

Mike nodded as they started walking again. "Yeah, which doesn't make sense if this had been planned. You're thinking that Lipinski was a last minute addition because you called Jackson and Rivers away from their detail on Eames and Copeland."

"And with Stapleton's death, it set Jules into a rage. He must have called someone in the taxi, or while he was still on the boat and I was getting dressed. Either way, he had someone get the truck out of impound…Travis."

"Travis got the truck out, drove it to the bar, parked it, and left the keys for Jules as he went in and kept you company before setting the dogs on you?"

The dogs being other cops. Bobby didn't argue with Logan's assessment of events because he was thinking the exact same thing. "Then Jules called Lipinski, asked about his location…Maybe he wasn't planning on getting into a crash, but he saw the opportunity and took it."

"One of the cops on the scene," Logan told him as they stopped just outside the surgical waiting room. "He told me that the truck was seen coming down the right-hand turn lane, instead of making the turn, it kept going. Witnesses said that Jules never hit the brake. Lipinski came from the opposite side, clipped the side of the SUV and lost control of the car. That's how he ended up hitting the parked cars and being thrown from the vehicle. Guess he should have buckled up. In fact, the only two wearing seatbelts were Eames and Copeland. Small miracles, huh?"

"Alex always wears a seatbelt," he absently told him. He, on the other hand, barely wore one. After pushing open the doors, he immediately stopped. Mike came up beside him as the tension in the room rose substantially as all eyes were on him.

"Oh, look," Logan said with a mocking sarcasm in his voice, "if it isn't your old pals with Major Case."

Bobby didn't say anything to the other detectives as he moved into a far corner by the doors and leaned against the wall. Maybe he shouldn't have been there, but Copeland was Alex's partner, and he actually liked the guy. And Copeland had saved Alex from being the one to hit that pole. The guy was in his debt.

Mike was right next to him against the wall and after a moment, he turned to him, asking, "What're you thinking?"

Bobby shook his head as he told him, "You don't want to know." Bringing the coffee cup up to his lips, he finally took a drink from it having forgotten about it until then.

A couple of minutes later the doors opened and in walked Captain Deakins along with Alex and following right behind them, the Chief of Detectives. Yarrow had been the Chief of D's for two years but he had hardly seen or talked to the man, but he didn't mind the guy especially after the deal they made. If the Chief saw his value at Major Case, and was willing to give him the opportunity to get back there, then he appreciated being given the chance.

However, at the moment, he couldn't imagine that the Chief was happy to see him. The last 24 hours have been not only a nightmare for him but the entire NYPD.

Alex came up to him but didn't say anything as she leaned into his side. Bobby let out a breath and slid his arm around her, holding her close as he continued to watch everyone in the room. He hadn't been forth coming with Alex about that night because he wasn't sure what to tell her and he was afraid that his silence had pushed her away. Her silent support of him right then was enough to remind him that she still loved him.

He felt Alex's hand caress over his back and he let out a sigh as he felt himself relax. Looking down at her, she gave him a smile and he had to smile back. They were okay. They could get through this.

Seconds later, the room was bursting with activity as a number of things happened all at once. The doctor came out from surgery, Lieutenants Williams and Newton along with Captain Reyes from Staten Island busted through the doors, and his cell phone started ringing. He went for the cell as Alex went to talk to the doctor, that left Logan to deal with Williams as she stalked over to them.

"Detectives, what the hell happened and why was I the last to know?"

Bobby saw that the call was from Jackson at the same time the Chief bellowed across the room.

"Detective Goren, I need to speak with you."

He should have left the damn hospital, he thought right before he flipped open the cell and took the call. "Goren."

"Bobby, thank God you're alright. Listen, I just heard what happened from Travis and I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that."

Looking up, he was once again center of attention but this time with every Captain, Lieutenant and Chief staring at him waiting for an explanation. Bobby straightened from the wall and did something that caught them all off guard, he left the room with not so much as an indication that he would return.

Pushing the door to the stairwell open, he asked, "How am I to trust you on that? I know that you were following Alex." He looked down the stairs but decided to go up them instead.

Jackson was silent for a moment but then he surprised him by saying, "Yeah, you're right. We were following her, but not to hurt her."

"You think she was actually talking to IA, that she was giving me up-"

"I don't think that," Jackson snapped at him. "I believed you when you told me that they were trying to use her to get to you, and that she told them nothing. Travis was the one who thought she was ratting you out. He…Look, Bobby, Travis thinks that he's the one in charge; he's not. He went rogue on us tonight when he went after you and Eames."

"What about Officer Lipinski?"

"That was Travis's call. I called Travis after you called me. I thought I could get his help but he told me that he couldn't, that he had also talked to you and that you wanted to meet up with him. He fucking lied to me so he could set you up at the bar and take out Eames. I would never do that. I trust you."

Bobby pushed open the door to the roof and stepped out into the freezing cold on top of the building. Inhaling a deep, sharp breath, he closed his eyes as he thought about everything Jackson had told him. He didn't know if he could believe the cop or not, but at the moment he was having a hard time believing any cop that wasn't Alex and Mike. "What're you going to do about it?" he suddenly asked.

He knew there had to be a reason for this call besides Jackson trying to cover his ass about his involvement. Maybe Jackson knew that after this night he would be on a mission to get the guy left standing: Travis.

"Like I said, Travis thinks he's the man in charge. He's been doing this rogue shit for a while and having me and my partner clean-up his messes. With what happened to Lance, we knew then that we had to deal with Travis. Tonight should have never had happened."

Bobby pulled on his overcoat as he thought about that last bit of information. Putting the phone back up to his ear, he asked, "Lance…What does Travis have to do with what happened with Sullivan?" The line went quiet for a long moment as he held his breath.

Then, he heard, "Sullivan had nothing to do with the Connelly's being murdered, Bobby. If you want to know more, we can meet up but I'm not going into details over the phone."

"Tonight?"

"No; there's too much going on right now. In a few days, once the smoke clears and we all had a chance to regroup. I'll let you know when and where, okay?"

There wasn't nothing he could do except to agree and hope that he wasn't walking into a trap. He shut his phone and took one last look around the rooftops and lights of the city.

The sky exploded around him. The loud banging of fireworks being set off startled him as he nearly pulled his weapon before watching the bright bursts of color light up the night sky.

He stared across the rooftops at the awe-inspiring blasts that decorated the sky. In his whole life he had never been that close to the celebration before. He couldn't take his eyes off the explosion of lights. Feeling someone move up against him, Bobby jerked his head around. Alex was looking up at the sky as another burst of blue lights lit up the roof. He didn't know how she found him but he was glad she had.

It looked like she had been crying and he immediately pulled her against his side and kissed the top of her head. Closing his eyes, he forgot all about the fireworks as he rested his head against hers. She could have died tonight, he could have died, but by some miracle they were both still standing.

He didn't know what Alex was thinking, but he was certain that she was feeling guilty, blaming herself in some way for Copeland. He didn't blame her for anything. She had no idea that her actions would have set off the chain of events that lead to all this. She didn't make Travis believe the lie that she was talking to IA, and she didn't kill Stapleton which set Jules off on his mission to kill her to get back at him.

This was no ones fault except for the ones responsible for it. And he was one of those responsible. He was more capable than Alex. It was his operation and he had lost complete control of it, like one of those out of control vehicles in that crash. That was what it had felt like.

Turning into her, he pulled Alex against his chest and held her as she held on tighter to him. He could feel her cast press into his stomach and it made him tense with anger. It could have been a whole lot worse than a mere broken arm, but he was still furious at the man that caused her that pain.

In the short seconds between the booming of the explosions going off around them, he heard Alex tell him that she loved him. Running his bruised left hand along her face, he tilted her head up before leaning down to kiss her. Her good arm wrapped around his neck as she deepened the kiss. The vibration from his cell phone interrupted the moment as he reluctantly pulled away.

Bobby checked the caller ID and saw that it was Logan. Flipping it open, he had to turn the volume up high to hear his partner. "Goren."

"You better get down here."

He guided Alex with him to the door and once in the stairwell asked, "How'd you know I'm up?"

"Because Eames hasn't called me freaking out that she can't find you."

Bobby had to smirk at that as they started down the stairs. "What floor?"

"There's a conference room on the second floor, room 205."

"A meeting?" he asked as he passed the fourth floor.

"Yeah, and you're the VIP."

"Okay, I'll be there in about five minutes." Closing his phone, Bobby looked over at Alex and asked, "So, how'd you know I was on the roof?"

"I didn't. Logan went down, I went up."

"I'm glad it was you that went up," he said, trying to break the tension that had risen. As he opened the door to the second floor, Bobby asked, "How is he?"

"He's alive. They couldn't save his right leg," she said as her voice broke.

Bobby stopped when that news hit him. "They had to amputate?"

Alex only gave a nod as the tears swelled in her eyes. "His left is a mess as well but they were able to save it and hopefully he'll retain full use of it, but as of now…" she trailed off as he reached out to pull her into a hug.

He tried not to think about it too much, but it was a losing battle because that could have been Alex. Taking a breath, he told her as gently as possible, "You do know it's not your fault, right?"

"Bobby…"

"Alex," he countered her as he took a step back. Catching her eyes, he said, "I'm not trying to tell you how to feel about this. I know how you feel, okay. I'm not blaming you-"

Alex looked confused as she asked, "Why would I think that you would blame me?"

That was when he realized that she had no idea who it was that had hit the SUV. Bobby went to speak when he heard someone call his name down the hall. Turning around, he saw the chief coming his way.

"Bobby?"

Looking back at Alex, he told her, "We'll talk, just…I have to do this first."

Alex looked around him to Yarrow as he approached before nodding. "Okay. When you get done, we can go to the diner down the street."

It sounded hopeful, like she was afraid that it wouldn't happen. Bobby leaned down and gave her another kiss, not caring who saw, before going with the chief down the hall to the conference room.

* * *

It wasn't until their cups of coffee was placed in front of them before they pulled away. Her more reluctantly than him. He was actually grateful for the small amount of distance. Taking a little longer to prepare his cup, he was able to settle his mind to prepare himself for the talk that he had to have with Alex. It was only fair that he was the one to inform her of the details of the car crash. Hoping that if the news came from him that it was be better somehow, he looked over at her as he picked up his cup to take a sip.

Alex stirred in some sugar before leaning back against the booth and taking a bigger gulp of the hot coffee. He could tell that she had wanted to reach up with her left hand to rub at her head, to smooth back the hair that fell against her face. Reaching out with his right hand, he moved the hair back behind her ear. It brought a smile to her lips and then a kiss to his palm.

"Long night, huh?"

She smirked at that, saying, "You're telling me. I can't believe it's still not over. I just want to wake up."

That confused him as he said, "You are up? Don't you mean you want to go to sleep?"

Alex's eyes grew serious, and sad, as she told him, "I was hoping I was already asleep. That this had been nothing but a dream."

Of all the things she could have told him, that caused him the most pain. Bobby felt the tightness of sorrow fill his chest and it took everything he had to not let it show too much. One thing he didn't do was take his eyes off hers, but he did drop his hand as he leaned back to be next to her.

Alex shifted to her side so she could see him better; her back was against the wall as her left side pressed against the cushioning of the booth. She looked worn down, like at any moment she would either break or drop. Or maybe both. She might just go off before collapsing into a fitful, restless sleep. He wouldn't blame her because he felt like doing the same.

"So, considering how this night went…I think I would've preferred the several uncomfortable hours with your family over this."

Alex only gave him a weak smile for his effort at getting her to laugh. He was worried for her and he couldn't think of anything that he could do to help her. He wasn't every good at making people laugh, not like she was. Whenever he was feeling down, she could always get a chuckle out of him. Comedy wasn't his thing, and a lot of times he was too lost in his mind to get some jokes, or get in on the playful jabbing. Those things never mattered to him. Another thing he didn't do well (without there being a reason for it like to get a confession or learning something) was small talk.

If it was pointless chatter with no reason to anything, he could care less about doing it. There was always something more interesting going on in his head that he could think about.

So, he was at a lost of what to say to Alex. Of what to do. He didn't know if he should start right in on the crash, of who it was that crashed into her and Copeland. If she needed to be lead into it or comforted first. For all he knew it could all wait until later, until tomorrow. Maybe she didn't want to know right now. She could want time to process the news about Copeland first, and the reality of the whole situation. Of the crash and everything.

"He was a good partner."

Bobby blinked away from staring at the cup of coffee as he heard her say that. Turning his head to look at her, he asked, "How so?"

"He trusted me, always had my back. He pulled his weight and never tried to belittle me by making me feel like I couldn't pull mine. We worked as a team, even when I was being difficult. At the beginning of our partnership, I couldn't believe that you were actually never coming back. I unfairly compared him to you and even though I knew he was irritated by it, he never let it interfere with the job. And, he liked you, liked us. I think he wanted to be our friends."

"We still can," he reminded her. "He's still here."

Alex finally met his eyes and he saw the tears threatening to fall. "I know. It's just now, everything's changed again. I lost another partner. And his whole life is now changed because some crazy, possibly drunk driver."

Bobby downed the rest of his coffee before setting the cup on the table. "Alex…It wasn't just some random driver." He wasn't looking at her but her felt her eyes on him as he continued, "It was a cop. Another detective, from Staten Island."

She was silent for a long moment before asking, "Who?"

"A, uh…a Narcotics detective, Jules…" he trailed off as he realized he didn't know Jules' first name. "And," he said as he tore his eyes from the table to look at her, "a patrol officer, another from Staten Island…Officer Lipinski."

Alex took in several deep breaths as she took in everything he had told her. She was confused, pained, but most of all angry. "I interviewed Lipinski for the Connelly case. Was this connected?"

He should have known that she would associated what happened to her to something she had done instead of something he had done. Bobby closed his eyes as he shook his head. "No… I mean, yes it's connected but not by anything you did." He was the one who did it. "It, uh…tonight, a lot of things happened with my undercover operation. Everything went to hell, Alex…It's my fault. I fucked up."

"Bobby, what are talking about? Why would that have anything to do with me or Harry?"

"Because it was retaliation," as soon as he said it he felt the truth in the words. It had been retaliation.

Alex stared at him and he was afraid of her silence, and her response once that hit her. Would she hate him? Fear their relationship now? Fear him? Could they make it through this? It had all gone to hell and nothing seemed safe now.

He was again felt lost as he slumped in the booth and closed his eyes against her silence. He had lost. He had failed. He had ruined everything because he had believed that he was in control when he wasn't.

"Okay," she finally spoke as her voice shook. "Tell me what happened."

"I…Alex, I can't."

"You can because you owe me this. You say it's retaliation that caused the car crash that injured me and put Harry in a wheelchair," she snapped at him. "Now tell me."

Swallowing the hard lump that formed in his constricting throat, he choked out his admission, "I got Stapleton killed."

"Who's Stapleton?"

"Another Narcotics detective…Jules's partner."

"And how did you get him killed?" she asked with an edge of worry quivering her voice, as if she were afraid of the answer he was about to give.

The struggle within him to tell her or not only served to break his resolve even more as he retold what happened as he replayed the events that occurred on that yacht over in his mind.

_The yacht seemed empty but he knew well enough that looks were deceiving, especially since they were there to do a drug deal. Stapleton was ahead of him with his gun out as they crossed the back deck to an open door. His gun was out as well as he watched their backs as they made their way down a long passage way. The first two rooms the came too were empty but as they approached the third he could her someone talking. A man, and it sounded like he was on the phone._

"_Yeah, they should be here. I told him ten sharp…Right…"_

_Stapleton came to the door first and ordered with his gun pointed at whoever was talking, "Phone, down."_

_He kept his eyes moving over the passageway, being aware of every shadow, light, and sound as Stapleton moved further into the room. Certain that as of now they were in the clear, he followed. _

_As soon as he saw Steve, Paul Savoie's bodyguard, lean back in the chair, he nearly had the urge to run. It wasn't the man himself who he feared, but who the man worked for. So, this was who they were dealing with or to or from? He still didn't know much of what was going on, but he didn't like it. He had just recently brought the possibility, and false possibility, of Stapleton working with Savoie to light. _

_He had told Stapleton a lie about why he had been meeting Savoie at that bar. Instead of the real reason of getting Lindsey away from the suspected serial murderer, he had told Stapleton it was a meeting to get in good with the mob boss. It seemed as if Stapleton not only believed him, but already worked out a deal with Savoie. _

_Then another realization occurred to him. This was his doing. He had done this. His lie had lead to them being there on that yacht. Shit._

_He saw Stapleton lower his gun so he did the same and holstered his gun, thinking it wasn't needed because this was going to be a nice, civilized drug exchange. And at first that was what it had appeared to be. Steve was forth-coming in information, in the amount to be paid and when and where and what their cut would be. _

_But, the moment Steve got Stapleton to talk more and more about what his guys were doing the more uneasy he became. He didn't know why it caused his alarm bells to go off, but it had. Why would Steve care? Why would he want to know who Stapleton's contact were, how much he was bringing in, and what he knew already about Savoie? _

_Unless this whole thing was being recorded and Savoie was listening in. He was obtaining all of Stapleton's knowledge…but why? If they were going to be working together…_

_At the moment it clicked in his head, it had been too late. Steve had gotten off two shots before his body collided with Stapleton to get them both on the floor._

"He never intended to work with Stapleton. Savoie had led him out there to find out what he knew and then to kill him."

"To kill us," he verified. "I'd threatened him, Savoie…I let him know that I knew he was a killer, and then I threatened him. And my lie to Stapleton…"

"You didn't know that he was going to get in contact with Savoie to set up a drug deal."

"He must have thought that I was trying to set him up on drug charges since I couldn't get him on the serial murders," Bobby continued, as if he hadn't heard Alex. "My actions…I'm culpable for everything that happened. In trying to do the right thing, in trying to control everything, I fucked it all up. It all spiraled…I got him killed, and I nearly got you killed-"

"Bobby, it's not your fault."

Shaking his head, he angrily got up out of the booth. When Alex got up to confront him, he nearly reached out to push her back down but somehow restrained as he kept his hands in front of his chest, held out to keep her back. He couldn't take her sympathy right then. "It is my fault," he stress as he eyed her. "I set everything in motion."

"You did what you had to do," she shot back at him. "They were the ones that reacted the way they did. You didn't make Jules decide to come after me. He choose that route. He was the one that got in the truck, not you. And you didn't hand Stapleton the phone telling him to set up a drug deal with Savoie either. That was all on him."

"It would have never had happened if I hadn't done what I did!" Bobby couldn't hold back the anger with himself any longer as he hit the table.

It was the second time he'd lost it in a public place but luckily for them, the diner was bare with them the only customers. Everyone else was out on the streets, celebrating the new year. However, the employees were giving him looks of fear and worry.

Alex looked around as she took a breath and stepped back. She was the most calmer of the two of them, and most practical; it didn't surprise him when she took out her shield and showed it to the curious employees, saying, "It's okay. We're cops…just having a little disagreement."

Hadn't Logan done the same thing just a few days ago because of his outburst? What was he doing? Running a hand over his face, through his hair, he sat down heavily in the booth as Alex eyed him before sitting across from him.

After a moment, she told him, "I know that it seems easy to blame yourself right now. You'll be beating yourself up over this for awhile because you can't help it. But like you told me earlier, I'm not trying to tell you how to feel, or what to think. No matter what you are feeling, it isn't your fault. Okay, so your actions ultimately led to these actions but you couldn't have known at the time that it would cause all of this. Bobby, you aren't responsible for what they did."

Bobby knew what she was saying was right, because he had reasoned out the same excuse for her earlier. He had told himself that Alex wasn't responsible for Travis' belief that she was talking with IA. That Alex couldn't have known that her going to see Garrison would lead to his attack at the bar. So, why was it okay for her but not for him? Why was it so hard for him to forgive himself for his mistakes?

He wasn't so high on himself that he actually thought he couldn't make any, because he had. There had been so many mistakes he'd made in his life, but nothing like this. As he closed his eyes, the images from the crash scene still plagued his mind's eye. The blood, the glass, Copeland, and then Alex in the back of the ambulance. "Do you still love me?"

She didn't answer him right away, but she did tell him to open his eyes. When he finally obeyed, he saw that the tears had broken from her battle to keep them at bay. The wet mascara streamed down her cheeks as she told him, "I'll always love you, Bobby. This doesn't change us, not if we don't let it."

"Love can't fix everything."

"Why not?" she sharply asked as her eyes bore into his.

"Because…it's never unconditional. There are _always_ conditions. It's just about whether or not those are the ones you can put up with or not. The ones you can overlook and still carry on." Bobby held her eyes for a moment longer before pulling out his wallet and paying for the coffee with a fifty and not caring. The waitress deserved a generous tip for not kicking him out after his outburst.

As he stood, she stood and took his hand. He tried to pull away but she held on tight, pulling him close. "Maybe you're right about love. Maybe it does come and go and it can pretty much make you or break you. But you better get one thing straight before you turn your back on it completely."

Staring down into her stern eyes, he asked, "What's that?"

"It can fix things. It _can_ make you happy. And if there's anyone on earth who needs it the most, it's you. And when I tell you that I love you, I mean it. For you to even doubt me…to suggest that I'm lying to you about how I feel-"

"What if I keep doubting you?" he challenged. "What if I think you're lying to me? Then what? You'll leave me? You'll stop loving me?"

"No, I won't. I left before, yes, and I regretted it but I never stopped loving you, Bobby. What I learned from that mistake was that if you keep doubting me, I'll just try harder. Fight for us harder. I will never walk away from you again because I think you're worth fighting for. You're worth my love, you stubborn jackass."

At seeing the sincerity in her eyes, in the truth in what she was telling him. He felt relieved and he actually smirked at her for calling him a jackass because he was for ever doubting her. He did truly feel loved by her, and he did trust her, and that she would never lie to him. Giving a weak nod, he felt his body shake as he leaned down and kissed her deeply.

A couple of long seconds later, he pulled away but kept his right arm around her as he said, "Let's go home."

"Do you need to get back to the hospital for anything? Weren't you supposed to get x-rays?"

Shaking his head, he said again, "I'm fine," as he led her out of the diner onto the sidewalk where he hailed a cab.

TBC…


	35. Don't you think a lock's a bit extreme

A/N: Well, we're getting closer to the end, just a few more to go.

This chapter is rated **M**.

Enjoy!

* * *

They had both dozed off in the cab and were awaken when the driver had to bang on the plexi-glass to wake them up. Bobby helped her out of the taxi before paying the driver the fare. Alex didn't move from his side the entire time. She enjoyed his warmth and the closeness that she was in desperate need of. Her nerves were shot and the exhaustion of the day was catching up with her, making her more clingy than usual but Bobby didn't seem to mind. He kept his arm around her as he walked them up the steps to the front door.

As she stepped into the foyer, the heat hit, easing the last chill from her body. Letting out a breath, she smiled at the thought that entered her head: she was home.

Bobby tossed the keys on the desk by the door as she struggled with getting her coat off her shoulders. When she felt his arms wrap around her, she stopped the struggle as her eyes closed. Leaning back against his solid body, she felt herself relinquish herself over to him as he slid his hands up her arms. As the coat slid from her shoulders, she felt his lips on her neck and her whole body quivered at the sensation.

Turning around, she smiled as she pulled him down for a kiss before letting go. Bobby regarded her for a moment, giving her a weary smile, before putting their coats up.

She watched as he opened the coat closet before going into the living room. "Home, and it's about time. I've _got_ to get these heels off; they're killing my feet," she exclaimed as she collapsed on the couch and pulled off her heels. Looking up, she saw Bobby slowly following as he pulled off his suit jacket. "Hate these things," she groaned as she tossed them under the coffee table.

Bobby draped the jacket over the recliner as he asked, "If you hate 'em, then why'd you wear 'em?"

"Besides not looking like a dwarf next to you, I look damn sexy in them," she answered as he leaned over the back of the couch.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her lips. "I can't argue with that. I think the higher the heels, the sexier you look. I'd love to see you in a pair of five-inch stilettos."

"Hmm, and then I can do a stripper dance for you."

Bobby peered down at her through his heavy eyelids as her fingers found the buttons on his dress shirt. She unbutton the top button and then the next one as he asked, "You'd do that?"

Laughing at the seriousness in that question, she continued unbuttoning his shirt but didn't answer. She would leave it to his curiosity. "Are you going to come here so I can properly unclothed you?"

Bobby's eyes were light and teasing as he straightened off the back of the couch. "Want a drink?"

"What're you getting?"

"A beer."

"We're not supposed to drink while we're on pain meds," she called after him.

"You're on pain meds," Bobby told her from the kitchen. "Want a water?"

"No, I didn't say I didn't want one." As she waited for him to get back, she rested her head against the cushions and closed her eyes. She felt so tired yet she was still too worked up to sleep.

The couch dipped next to her and she heard Bobby's soft voice, "Look at you, living dangerously."

Opening her eyes, she smiled at Bobby as he handed her the cold beer bottle. "Oh, I'm just trying to keep up with you," she teased as she took the bottle.

"So," Bobby said as he pulled her into his side. "About that striptease."

Alex laughed at him before taking a big gulp that caused Bobby to eye her with concern. The beer tasted so good and she hoped it would ease her nerves so she could finally relax. She said as she moved her left arm against his side, "This is seriously going to interfere with my workout routine, along with any fleeting thoughts of a stripper dance."

Bobby downed half his bottle before setting it on the coffee table. "Then don't start something you can't finish," he told her as he tilted his head down and kissed her lips.

Alex pushed her lips harder against his before barely breaking contact. "I have no problems finishing," she said as she put the bottle down on the table before pulling his shirt out from his pants.

Her original intention had been to get them unclothed for a bath, but the more she let her emotions go, the more she felt in desperate need of intimacy, of sex, of letting everything go and trying to block out the pain from the evening with something good.

Given his response to her already, and all she'd done so far was unbutton his shirt, she knew he was feeling the same. Her lips left his as she moved down to kiss along his neck. His breath hitched as she found the spot that sent shivers down his spine.

"Mmm, feels good," he moaned as he caressed over her arms, her neck, down along her thighs and then up to her ass. "But you can-, can't uh…"

"I can't what?" she asked as she felt his hands caressing over her body. Pressing harder against him, she moved her hand against his stomach, just above his waistband. With her other arm in a cast it was hard to maneuver, and uncomfortable.

His labored hot breath skidded across her neck, exciting her as she undid his belt. "Uh…fuck," his grunted out as her fingers teased over his zipper.

"I can't fuck?" she asked a little too sarcastically as she felt the bulge pressing against the zipper that she started to slowly unzip.

Smiling, he said, "Yeah, there's that, but that's not what I meant…I may be tired, but I-I, uh…" he trailed off as she got the zipper all the way down. The moment she touched him he jerked into her hand as he let out a deep groan.

His eyes never left hers as she leaned forward and gave him a deep kiss, letting their tongues dance with each other before breaking the kiss. "So, what can't I do?"

Dropping his head back on the couch, he muttered, "Nothing. You can do anything you want to, baby."

Chuckling at his response, she decided to tease him a little as she started to move away. "In that case…"

Glaring up at her, Bobby was about to protest when she laughed a little before giving him a few strokes of encouragement as she kissed him hard. Then, when she scooted down to the floor to kneel in front of him, his eyes stayed with hers as she took him into her mouth. To keep from screaming out, she saw him bite his lip as his eyes blinked close for a fraction of a moment before he was right back with her.

She started off slow, nearly teasing, as she felt his hands massage at her shoulders and then at the back of her neck. The care he took in not forcing any undue pressure nearly surprised her because from the way his body was shaking she knew he was holding back with great difficulty.

The tears started to swell, blurring her eyes, as she took in the dark blue and purple bruising that clashed with his pale skin across his chest. She had yet to know what happened to him tonight but what she did know was that he was hurt. They both were. Her eyes clenched close against the rush of emotions that gripped her chest, her heart, as she felt her body shake.

"Alex…"

She ignored the worry that barely penetrated his deep, husky voice as she sped up. As the scene replayed over in her mind.

_Harry had been teasing her, smiling over at her as she took her eyes off him to focus back on the road. She saw the lights before she heard the roaring of the engine. In the split second it took her to turn her head, the truck was there. Then the pain as her head hit the window, her arm that she had flung up to block somehow the deadly blow._

_Her arms were no longer on the wheel but someone was steering it, turning it away and then she barely registered the other car before they hit something hard, something solid and unmovable. Blackness surrounded her before the fuzzy, mangled world came back into view. Cars lights blinded her and she could see people standing around, some frantic and on their cell phones, some looking lost…stunned, gawking…_

_They were gawking at her? Feeling the pain flair in her head, she groaned as she blinked back and saw that the whole dashboard was wrong. Everything was wrong; the windshield was shattered, her window was missing with only bits of shreds sticking out from the door. Her legs felt constricted and they were pressed into the seat and there was a heavy weight against her right side._

_Turning her head, and ignoring the pain, she saw Harry. Panic shook her into action as she noticed the pole that the SUV was pressed against. It had cut into the metal like it was tin foil. _

"_Harry?" she spoke as her hands went to his neck._

_Finding a pulse she was only marginally better because as she moved around to check him over, she saw his legs, the blood, and again the pole that trapped him._

"Alex!"

Bobby's voice brought her back as she felt his hand tangle and pulling a little too hard at her hair. She remembered the look on Bobby's face as he saw her in the ambulance. The helicopter had been circling overhead, lighting up the scene with the spotlight, and she could only see the SUV and the firefighters as they worked to get Harry out until she saw someone breaking through the light. When she focused on the figure moving toward her, she nearly broke. It was Bobby; he was there and his look was of pure relief, gratitude, and love because she was alive and okay.

Feeling the quaking in his hips, his thighs, she took all of him down before swallowing hard. Her name broke from his trembling lips as his body rocked over-and-over. She felt her own body tremble but for an entirely different reason. Once she was done, and fixing up his pants, she had to wipe the tears from her cheeks before getting up to straddle his hips. Kissing over his chest, up his neck, and then his lips, Alex slipped her tongue into his mouth as the last of the shivers wore from both their bodies.

His hands kneaded the muscles at the back of her neck as he held her to him, letting her kiss him as deeply as she dared for as long as she wanted. Despite her earlier attempt at keeping her tears from being seen, she was starting to feel herself break again as he wrapped his arms around her. She nearly trembled when she felt his lips on her cheeks, kissing away the tears.

"C'mon," he softly spoke to her as he gently lifted her legs from around his hips.

She thought that he was going to hold her on the couch but instead he lifted her as he stood. The curse he mumbled under his breath at the movement reminded her of his pain but she knew if she tried to talk him out of carrying her it would be shot down. Bobby was too stubborn and at the moment she was too tired to put up a useless protest.

With her cradled in his arms, Bobby took her down the hall and once again surprised her by going into the bathroom and not the bedroom. Sitting her down on the edge of the tub, she watched silently as he drew her a bath. Then he opened the cabinet under the sink and she wanted to laugh when he pulled out her bottle of bubble bath. She couldn't imagine Bobby ever taking a bubble bath since turning into a man, but there he was adding it to the flowing warm water for her.

Turning his attention back to her, he carefully removed the sling before helping her to undress. Once she was naked, he removed his own clothing, and his bandages, before getting into the water first; after he adjusted the water temperature, and she took care of business, he pulled her down into the water, settling her back against his chest. Her injured arm rested on top of his left that was draped over the side of the tub.

With feeling safe and secure in his arms, she let out a sigh as she finally relaxed. As she rested against him, and steadied her breathing with the rhythm of his breaths, she felt emotionally drained and raw but overall content, happy. She felt like she could get through this. The world hadn't ended, Harry hadn't died, and Bobby was with her. She didn't know what to expect from him when they returned home, but this wasn't it.

She had expected him to want to take some time to himself; to set a distance between them and their emotions because that was what he did. All these feelings freaked him out and honestly she couldn't blame him. They scared her too and she had tried to fight them off as well but hadn't succeeded. She was home and she felt it safe to break. Safe to let him see her break because she also felt that he wouldn't back away from that. He would be uncomfortable yes, but he wasn't a coward. He would try the best he could. And tried he did, and she thought as she felt completely at ease and relaxed in the tub, that he had succeeded.

Her skin tingled at the feel of his fingers caressing along her belly, and the way it caused the water to dance over her skin. Shifting to her left, she reached up with her right hand and pulled his head down so she could kiss him.

Bobby didn't stop at her lips as he pressed kisses along her jaw, over her ear, and then down to her neck. She moaned and tilted her head, giving him all the access her needed.

When he got back up to her ear again, he asked, "What were you thinking about?"

"You."

She felt him smile against her skin but then he clarified, "Earlier, while you were uh…"

"Pleasing you?"

"Right, when you were pleasing me…you seemed to have drifted off."

Alex opened her eyes and dropped her head back so she could look up at him. "I didn't mean too." He smiled and she knew that he wasn't upset, just curious and maybe a little concerned. So she decided to ease his worries as she told him, "I can't stop thinking about the crash."

Bobby leaned his head against hers, giving her his silent comfort as he urged her to continue…if she wanted. She didn't think that he would press her for more if she didn't want to elaborate, so she didn't. It was all too fresh in her mind, all too real, and she knew she wouldn't be able to distance herself from the flood of angst threatening to escape. As she debated with herself to either say more or not, she heard him.

"I know the feeling," he spoke into her hair. "I can't get what happened on that yacht out of my head, or Stapleton…Or any of it. Every time I close my eyes, they're all right there."

He had yet to tell her how he had come by those bruises but she was a cop. It wasn't hard for her to put the pieces together. Broken glass, likely from a beer bottle, bruising to the left side of his chest and face. Bobby had been in a bar fight. She had remembered the other cops in the waiting room, Andrews especially, and how some of them looked drunk, and then Deakins reaction…The way the MCS detectives had shut her out and their anger with Bobby already.

When she looked up at after his prolonged silence, she saw that he was resting back against the tub and staring at the opposing wall, lost in his head again. Like him, she didn't press him for more than he could give at the moment. She had already figured it out. The reason Bobby was reluctant to tell her was because it had been her colleagues who had done that to him. He was torn and didn't know what or how to tell her.

So, she decided to take that burden off the pile that had already gathered on his shoulders. "You were in a bar fight…and, I'm assuming it was Andrews along with some of the other guys from Major Case, wasn't it?"

Bobby blinked back and shifted his eyes to hers. At seeing the conflicting battle and the pain that darkened his features, she knew she was right. Giving him a small nod, and not feeling the energy to get angry, she decided the full impact of that could wait until tomorrow.

Grabbing the bottle of shampoo, she handed it out to Bobby. "I'm going to need your help, and not just with the hard to reach places."

He didn't move for a long moment before he took the bottle and sat up straighter in the tub.

* * *

It was no surprise to him that he couldn't sleep. Alex had passed out from pure exhaustion right after he carried her from the tub to bed. Her nerves had worn her down while his were winding him up. Like the night before, he went through the tedious process of checking every lock and room in his apartment. He had grown to feel uncomfortable in his own home and he wasn't sure when it happened or why, but the feeling had grabbed him and would not let go.

On his way through the living room, he picked up the two bottles of warm beer carried them into the kitchen where he emptied them into the sink. He then threw them away on his way to check the backdoor. Satisfied that all was in order, that he was safe in his home, he felt it safe to also let his guard down. Going over to the cabinet, he pulled down his bottle of scotch from the top shelf then grabbed a clean glass out of the strainer next to the sink. His hands shook as he poured, splashing alcohol over the rim and onto his hand.

Taking a breath, and closing his eyes, he willed the shakiness away as he brought the glass up to his lips. As he downed the scotch, he felt the emotions that had been gnawing away at his nerves break. The glass dropped into the sink but didn't shatter as his heart had. Stumbling back, he rubbed at his throbbing head as he felt a raw, strangled cry erupt from deep within his being. His body slammed against the wall right before he hit the floor just as the flood burst.

As he buried his face in his quivering hands as he let it all go, as he broke and cried, he felt himself surprised and very much afraid. He didn't know why he had started crying. He didn't understand the mixture of feelings that nearly paralyzed him with its amount of intensity which gripped his heart and soul. All he knew was that he hadn't mended. There were still no walls protecting him, no barriers in place that kept this from happening, that kept him from breaking and dying inside. There was no control left to keep him solid, structured and in control.

He felt so exposed and vulnerable that it angered him to the point of near rage, and that was the emotion that had overwhelmed him. It wasn't sorrow, or pain, or guilt, but anger. He felt so much of it that it was threatening to ruin him. In that moment he felt so much hate he couldn't function beyond it. Couldn't feel anything else beside it. He couldn't stop shaking from his rage as he tried to keep it from boiling to the surface.

The last thing Alex needed was to have to stop him from doing something stupid in a fit of rage. He couldn't put her in the middle of that; wake her up to have to deal with that when she had just gotten to sleep. He had to push it down; all of it back down to his depths. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he shook and sobbed as he worked to close himself back up. To put his barriers in place. Even if it meant retreating away from Alex emotionally, he knew he had to do it. He couldn't keep going like this or else he would snap. He would break and stop functioning.

Eventually the tears dried as his body sagged in defeat and loss of energy. The emotions he had been strangled with earlier now only left him feeling dead. Emotionally drained and empty, he stared at the floor until he thought that he was completely disconnected from his heart. He had buried himself so far in his mind, his thoughts, it was to the point that he even felt distant from his body, which he thought was good because it blocked the pain.

Getting to his feet, he picked up the glass that he had dropped in the sink and with a steady hand, poured it half with scotch before putting the bottle away. Rubbing at his head, he made his way through the living room. When he entered the hallway, he heard a noise.

It was a soft, muffled cry coming from down the hall; from his bedroom and the woman that was lying in his bed. As he leaned against the doorframe to his study and listened, his stomach turned as he heard Alex crying. The sound reminded him all too well of his own mother crying after his father had hurt her, or after one of her breaks from reality. He had tried as a child to be there emotionally for his mother. However, with her overbearing, and often times unrestrained, emotional needs that task had always been too much for him as a boy who couldn't possibly understand the complex emotions of an adult, yet alone a mentally unstable adult.

He still didn't understand. Not completely. He understood intentions; he understood lying, hate, anger, betrayal, mistrust, abandonment, humiliation, and all the furious passion all those generated. He got indifference, vulnerability, despair, insecurity, unworthiness, guilt, shame, and loneliness. Those he recognized because he was flooded with them all; they were all the emotions that spurred so many crimes. That corrupted so many people.

They were the ones that caused him so many problems.

What he didn't fully understand, or recognize, were all the good ones. Good emotions scared him because nothing good ever lasted. Or the good were just delusions, making him believe in something that wasn't the truth. Making him believe the lie. But even the good caused the bad. Love caused jealousy, which caused mistrust. In turn it caused betrayal, and maybe even hate and then death.

Closing his eyes, he fought the urge to run, to walk away before he caused her any more pain. He hated to admit it, but he would have run by now if it was any other woman. He had told her before that he was a coward when it came to relationships, to commitment. It deeply terrified him, but now wasn't the time to be a coward. He had to face this. Even though he thought that what happened to her and Copeland wasn't his fault, he still felt that it was. The guilt…it wasn't going to go away. He was responsible for the nightmares that had woken her and the sorrow that overtook her because of them.

Swallowing hard around the tight lump that gripped his throat, he left the false security of the hallway and went into the bedroom where he stopped at the foot of the bed. Alex didn't look at him but he knew that she was aware of his presence. Rounding her side of the bed, he sat on the edge then reached out and touched her trembling back.

Maybe his physical presence was all she needed at the moment to calm her because she seemed to relax with his touch. He wanted to give her more but he didn't know how. Earlier he had made the right call with the bath only because they both needed to wash the remains of the day away. If he had been left to his own devises, he would have blown it completely. He was prepared to deal with it all on his own by retreating to his study until she made him forget. Then he felt guilty not being able to return the pleasure right back to her, but the time they shared in the bath tub had seemed to do the trick.

And now his gentle rubbing of her back seemed to be working as well as her crying stopped, her breathing evened out, and she was once again asleep. He waited until he was sure she was resting peacefully before he left the room. Sleep wasn't going to come easy. His body may have been sluggish and fatigued but his mind wasn't settling. He could probably think himself into a coma given the right amount of time and fatigue.

Closing the door to his study, he leaned against the door and it felt as if that simple act had secured him safely into his own world. The rest of his home may have felt unsafe and uncomfortable, but now something about that small room with all his books and his couch and his own air made him feel nearly whole. That he could control himself again; that he would be okay.

Laying down on his leather couch, he fought to at least steer his thoughts in one direction. Pushing the bar fight, his past abduction, the yacht, Stapleton, the crash, Alex, Copeland, Logan, Garrison, and everything that came with the job aside, he was left with one thought: his mother. He realized he hadn't called her in a few days. That he had ignored her repeated calls all day today and even yesterday.

Again he was reminded of the guilt for his inability to fulfill her needs as adequately as she deserved, or as she felt she deserved. He had failed her too; always had and always would.

How could he possibly make Alex happy and fulfill her needs if he couldn't even do it for his own mother? A woman who was supposed to love him unconditionally but didn't. Yet Alex had no obligation to love him at all and he was supposed to make her do it without question? Make her feel loved, trusted, and appreciated enough to stick by him.

He believed her when she said that she loved him, that she would fight for them. At least one of them would, because if she ever decided to leave him again he knew he wouldn't put up a fight to get her to stay. He wasn't worth the effort. He was a failure who couldn't even keep up his promise to call his mother every day, or the promise he made to Stapleton to return him home to his family. His promise to Alex to always protect her.

He couldn't protect her. What kind of man was he if he couldn't even protect the woman he loved? Not a very good man. He was a failure as a son and now as a man, as Alex's boyfriend.

God, was he worthless.

In that moment, he didn't feel very much like a man at all. He felt incompetent. His incompetence led him to think that she had no more reason to be with him. He feared that this was it, the final straw.

She was going to leave him. She had no reasons to continue staying. There was nothing he could provide to satisfy her. It wasn't like she really needed him anyway. He knew how much money she made so it wasn't like she needed him for financial security or support. She was a hard worker and a damn good one. Alex was tough, strong, she could take care of herself, so that left out physical security and protection.

Alex really didn't need a man at all except for sex and intimacy…but he was horrible at intimacy.

So…was it just for the sex?

Bobby didn't know how he felt about that as he continued to stare up at the ceiling. At least, he thought, he was good in bed or else she would have been gone a long time ago. Rationally, he knew it wasn't about the sex because Alex wasn't that kind of woman. She had too much self pride and respect. She had told him that she was gaining from the relationship. She was getting something out of it, whether he knew or understood what it was or not, she was invested. She was benefiting.

How this could be beneficial he had no idea. He thought he was helping her out by having her move in with him but really all she had to do was move into another apartment of her choice. She could afford to live anywhere, even Manhattan if she wanted, but she chose to move to a small neighborhood in Brooklyn with no family and friends nearby to be with him.

And he had let her down; was still letting her down.

He finished off the scotch and wanted more but decided on beer instead. Taking the glass into the kitchen, he put it in the sink before grabbing two bottles out of the refrigerator then headed back to the security of the study.

That time when he closed the door, he locked it.

* * *

She entered the kitchen with a fog in her head and a desire for a much needed cup of Joe. At spotting the clutter of dishes and the empty beer bottles from the day before still littered around the counters and table she groaned but didn't let the mess deter her from the task at hand. Once the coffee started brewing, she went in search of her partner…boyfriend, whatever.

When she had woken up alone, at first she thought Bobby was already up getting breakfast started or in the shower. Then she realized that he hadn't slept next to her last night. His side of the bed was too cold and the sheet hadn't even been turned down. It was hot in the apartment and he would have only used the sheet for covering, giving her full use of the blanket that she wrapped herself in like a cocoon.

The living room had been empty, so had the bathroom, which left either the study or he was MIA. Knocking on the door to the study, she yelled through the door as she went to open it, "Bobby, ya awake?"

The door caught as she went to push it open. It was locked and a sense of dread gripped her chest before it was overcome with irritation. If this was his idea of blocking her out…

"Bobby?" She knocked louder when he hadn't answered the first time.

From under the door she felt a cool breeze hit her bare feet, sending a chill up her body. He must have the window open. It had to be freezing in there. And what was he doing with the window open anyway? Then the answer hit her and again she sighed and shook her head. He had probably been smoking, which meant he had been drinking because he didn't do much of one without the other.

Knocking again and still not getting a response, she decided to let him continue sleeping, if that was what he was doing, as she started toward the bedroom to get ready for work. She stopped a few steps from the bedroom door when it all rushed back to her.

The crash, Harry's condition, her arm…

She wasn't going back to work anytime soon. She was on medical leave until her doctor approved her return to work. And only then it'd be desk duty until she could get back out on the street. That would only be after she completed her physical therapy and re-qualified on firing her weapon.

_Great_. Just fucking great, she thought as she turned and headed back to the kitchen to get her that cup of coffee.

Glancing at the clock she saw it was twenty after five and groaned. So much for sleeping in. If she had remembered that she didn't need to go into work, she would have rolled over and gone back to sleep. She took out the biggest, tallest coffee cup-one of hers-out of the cabinet and filled it to the brim before adding some sugar and hazelnut creamer. The thought of breakfast turned her stomach so she left the kitchen and headed back to the bedroom where she planned on spending her morning hours huddled in bed watching TV.

It was New Year's day so there was no reason to do anything else but relax in bed; and if she knew Bobby, he would be wanting to watch college football all day. Luckily, and all thanks to her, there were now two TV's in the apartment. Getting back into bed, she grabbed the remote off the nightstand before wrapping herself up in the blanket.

A couple hours later, while she was engrossed in an old black-and-white movie starring Humphrey Bogart, her cell buzzed. Hitting the pause button, and remembering why she loved Tivo, she picked up her cell. "Eames," she answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Alex, it's Terry."

At hearing her brother-in-law's voice on the line, she immediately went into panic mode. "Terry, what's going on? Is everything all right? Is it Nate?"

"Whoa, slow down. Everything's fine. Really," he said with a laugh. "I promise."

She let out a breath and nodded into the phone as she leaned back against the pillows. "Sorry, it's just…it's been a rough night."

Her family had yet to know about the car crash and everything that happened. A part of her actually didn't want any of them to catch wind of it, but her brother was a cop, her other brother a firefighter, she knew it would get around eventually.

"How are you? We just heard about what happened," Terry said and she had to smile. She wondered who it was, Junior? Rich? "Rich left a message on the voicemail; I Just got it. I haven't told Liz yet because I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," she told Terry. "The worst I got was a broken arm."

"And your partner? Was he involved?"

Alex had to steady her voice before she said, "He's…recovering. He had to have surgery, but he's going to make it." Informing him about the specifics was something she didn't want to do, at least not over the phone.

"And Bobby's there? I know he is but is he taking care of things…You need anything?"

Rubbing at her head she sighed as she asked, "Terry, what's this about? Things here are fine. Bobby's…"

"No, I didn't mean any-" Terry broke off as she heard him talking to someone else. It was Liz. "I was just wondering," he spoke back into the phone, "because you missed out on last night with the family so we were thinking, if you weren't busy, we could come over. We got the twins, don't ask how _that _happened, and Nate's been dying to get away from here."

Terry always used her nephew to try to get her to invite them over, and it always worked. It wasn't like he even had to use Nate as some form of blackmail, but Terry seemed to think it was funny. Alex had no idea how Bobby was feeling but she wanted them to come over. She wanted to see her family. It was New Year's day damn it, a holiday, and after nearly dying last night she deserved it. Hopefully seeing them would help her feel better.

Smiling into the phone, she asked, "What time should we be expecting you?"

"Give us an hour…No, wait…What?" Terry called out and Alex could only imagine Liz's look at her husband. "Two…yeah, two hours, I think. Your sister thinks it'll be impossible to get three kids ready to go that quickly."

"Maybe because it is. I'll see you guys in about three."

Terry just chuckled before he told her bye and hung up the phone. Snapping the cell close, she tossed it on the bed then she pressed play on the remote to resume watching her movie.

* * *

"_Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch…alone…And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much, are you still mine? I need your love, I need your love, God speed your love to me…"_

_It had gotten to the point where as soon as he heard the opening notes of the song he would cringe with anticipation. She liked to put that song on once the door was closed and then it repeated…played over and over until they were done. Once, it had stopped playing, and he could hear them. It had been so loud that he ended up having to bury his head under a pillow on the couch, but that hadn't been enough. _

_The sounds he heard sickened him. They caused so much disgust and fear and shame and uncertainty that the only thing he could do was try to block it all out. He tried his best to keep his eyes focused on the television screen; to the games that he never watched anymore nor cared about._

_When it first happened, he just glad to watch the games on a big colored TV instead of listening to them on the radio. He had even tried to be happy about coming over to her apartment, but now he dreaded it to the point of fear. He was scared of her, scared of his dad, and scared for his mom._

_Over the beautiful melody of the song he could hear the woman, Maggie, moaning and screaming out God's name and then his father's. Then, he heard his dad's voice and that was when he disappeared into his head. The images of the ball players faded as he drifted through his own world that he had created in his head. _

_It wasn't until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he refocused on the world around him. Having expected to see his dad he was surprised to see her sitting on the floor next to him. Her pink robe was open and he could see her bare naked body and a cigarette played in her mouth before she took it out to smile at him._

_Turning his head away as the feeling of shame and disgust crept up, he returned his attention back to the television that he no longer enjoyed watching. _

"_Your dad'll be out inna a minute, honey," she told him. "He's in tha shower."_

_His dad hardly ever showered afterwards unless he was going to somewhere else after they left there. Usually he just waited to shower at home, not caring that mom was there to smell him or not. Checking the score to the game, he saw that the Rangers lost 2-0. He had to remember that in case mom or Frank asked who won the hockey game. If the Rangers had won then he would've had to smile and act excited that he got to see the game, but since they lost he could be as miserable as he felt. _

_At the touch to the back of his neck, he tensed and nearly jumped to his feet. Her fingers and nails lightly playing at the nape of his neck and his hair. Maggie liked to do that, touch him on his neck and play with his hair; she would smile and then give him a hug and a kiss on his head. He guess it made her happy, it made him feel like crying but he wasn't a girl so he couldn't cry. At least that was what his dad had told him. _

_His dad had called him a man when he first asked to keep this a secret from mom and he enjoyed hearing that. Even though it confused him, made him angry, he had to believe his father when he told him that this was what men did. And part of what men did was keep secrets, to lie so not to cause a woman pain. His dad didn't want to hurt his mother, and he said that he loved her, so if he wanted them to stay together, for them not to get a divorce, he had to help him lie._

_If he said anything about this then they would divorce, his dad would leave, and it would be his fault._

_Just as he felt her lips kiss over the top of his head, he heard the bathroom door open and then the sound of his dad coming down the hallway. His dad was buttoning his dress shirt up and watching Maggie and then him as he came to a stop in the middle of the room. Instead of telling Maggie to leave him alone or saving him from the uncomfortable touch and kisses of the woman he loathed, his dad just smirked and shook his head as he pulled his tie from out of his jacket pocket. _

_As he watched his dad finish getting ready to go, he removed himself for Maggie's embrace and stood. She also got to her feet and went over to his dad and he looked away when they stared kissing. When his dad promised to see her again next week, he felt his stomach lurch and the tightening of his throat as he felt once again like being a wuss and start crying._

_Grabbing his coat off the couch, he quickly pulled it on and waited by the door for his dad. _

_It was a cold, snow covered the ground as they walked to the car and got in. As his dad started driving, he cleared his throat and finally asked, "Where're we going now?"_

"_I told your mother we're going to stop on the way home and grab dinner. I thought to kill some time, I'll hit up Eddie's."_

"_I don't like Eddie."_

_His dad didn't say anything as he continued driving through the Brooklyn neighborhoods toward Coney Island where Eddie lived. Then his father explained, "I owe him money, Bobby. I gotta go see him, then we'll go home. Okay? Hey, I'll even let you decide on dinner. What'd you want?"_

"_Why'd you only care what I want when you want me to keep lying for you?" As soon as the words were out he braced himself for the backhand that hit his mouth. He knew it had been coming but it still shocked him, like it did every time he gathered the nerve to talk back to his dad._

"_Wanna be a smartass, then forget it. I wont get anything, how's that? I'll leave it up to your mother to feed you and Frank."_

"_Like you always do because you're always owing money."_

_The car came to an abrupt stop and his dad grabbed him and slammed him against the car door, making him hit his head against the window. _

The pain from hitting his head in his memory jarred him awake as he jerked against on the couch and nearly tumbled off the side of it. Grabbing the back of the couch to keep from falling, he gasped out a breath of air as he looked around his study. Dragging in a painful breath of air, he started coughing as his lungs ached along with his tight chest. Sitting up on the edge of the couch, Bobby coughed as tears burned at his eyes from not being able to catch his breath.

Leaning back and rubbing at his chest, he was able to get the air to pass through his chest easier. He hadn't experienced smokers cough in years and was taken back by how much it hurt to wake up not being able to breathe. It wasn't something he had planned on doing but after he had finished off the two beers, he wanted more except he was all out. So, at nearly three in the morning, he found a store four blocks over and two blocks north that was open 24 hours and sold alcohol. At seeing the packs of cigarettes behind the counter, and already buzzed, he bought a pack. On the walk back to the apartment he had smoked three but then lost track when he started drinking once at home.

Looking down at his bare feet, he spotted the overflowing ashtray along with the empty bottles, ten altogether which included the first two from the refrigerator. Four left in the twelve pack case, and the same went for the smokes. He nearly smoked the whole pack; no wonder his chest was killing him. With a groan of pain, he got up off the couch, grabbed a cigarette from the pack along with his lighter, and then unlocked the door.

* * *

She heard the door open down the hall and saw Bobby, cigarette in hand, pad his way out of the study and disappear into the foyer. Grabbing her empty coffee cup, she decided to meet him in the kitchen. Extracting herself from the warmth of her down comforter, she made her way to the kitchen. As she approached the entryway, she came up short as Bobby was on the phone.

Giving him his privacy, she moved to walk away when she heard his tired voice.

"Hey, uh, Frank, it's Bobby…Your brother," he emphasized like it was ridiculous that he had to tell his own brother who he was. "…I, um, I just…No, I'm not…No, listen…that's not-I _didn't_," he said angrily into the phone. "Would you just…" he sighed in annoyance then took a drag off the smoke before he nearly yelled into the phone, "Damn it, Frank, would you shut-up. I just wanted to see how you were. We haven't talked since-What? Okay," he suddenly calmed but was still irritated as he asked, "You want me to call you back?" He closed his eyes before he abruptly snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the counter as he muttered under his breath, "Son-of-a-bitch."

Clearing her throat, she stepped into the kitchen. "You get a letter from a criminal wishing you a Happy Holiday but you can't even have a pleasant phone call with your brother?"

Bobby looked over at her as he said, "It's not like I give him reason to have a pleasant conversation with me."

"And why's that?"

Looking her over, he didn't answer as he stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and pushed himself off the counter. He went over to the refrigerator and pulled it open as he asked, "What'd you want to eat?"

"I don't know, surprise me."

"How 'bout omelets and hash browns?" he asked as he pulled out the carton of eggs, the half gallon of milk, a block of cheese, some ham, and green onion.

"Sounds amazing. Want any help?"

Shaking his head, he took all the food over to the counter and stared at the mess before moving the food to the other counter.

"I know you know how to clean," she remarked as she walked over to refill her empty coffee cup.

Bobby glanced at her briefly before getting a bowl down from the cabinet. "I do, but…I forget. With my last apartment, I had a cleaning lady for a reason." He took a few more puffs off the cigarette before finally putting it out in the sink and then tossing the butt into the trash.

Alex rolled her eyes as she stirred in some sugar and then pulled down a cup for him. "Yeah, well, I've noticed a lot lately how you forget to do a lot of things around here. By the way, if you didn't notice, the bed was empty of clothes for a reason."

He shamefully looked over at her and smiled, "Right. I know, I didn't put my clean clothes away. Alex…" he sighed as he mixed up the egg yoke and with some milk. "It's going to take me some time. I've lived alone and…It's just, I'm used to doing things a certain way, and yeah, I'm not the best at keeping things clean and tidy around here. I forget to do most of the chores until I'm actually sick of all the clutter myself. Usually it's the smell that gets to me first," he teased but she knew he wasn't kidding; not completely anyway. "I don't usually cook unless I'm in the mood to do it. Hell, sometimes I forget to eat, you know that. The only thing I've ever been counted on to get done on time is paying the bills and keeping my car running. And with the bills," he gestured to the board on the wall next to the cabinet, "I have to keep daily reminders for the ones that aren't directly withdrawn from my bank account."

She had noticed that board before but never paid attention to what was on it. In fact, the more she looked around the kitchen the more she realized that Bobby needed daily reminders of everything. The flyers and papers on the refrigerator. The two calendars he kept up to date: the one on the refrigerator and the one on the wall by the phone. The notepad on the counter and post-it notes that were stuck on the wall. Bobby was a note-taking fanatic, and not just at work. He had to keep reminders of everything everywhere.

"Is this like an obsessive compulsion for you because I know you don't have a bad memory," she teasingly asked but the look on his face told her that there was nothing funny with what she just said. It suddenly hit her and she had to shake her head. Feeling a little sorry for jumping on him already about household chores, she smiled as she apologized by saying, "I guess I should be at least grateful that you remember to dress yourself."

Bobby finally smiled if only a little, as he said, "Once, when I was a kid, I ran out of the house without my jacket or any shoes on. Wasn't until I my feet got soaked from all the rain that I realized it. I still have to do a mental check every morning to make sure I got everything…shoes included."

Alex smiled at that light attempt at a joke. Bobby was never good with jokes, not like she was. He could be funny, but most of it was never intentional. It just came across that way. Much like how most of the things she found amusing about him other people found annoying, odd, or just plain weird.

She smiled and left him alone to cook as she cleaned up the counters. Putting the glass bottles in the recycling bin in the closet, she asked, "Got anything else to recycle? This is getting full."

"There're bottles in my study."

_His_ study...She tried not to think too much about his slip seeing how she just moved in; shaking it off, she decided to tease him. "Of course there are; I'm surprised you're actually awake this early."

Bobby didn't say anything as she left the kitchen but his dark, haunted look said it all. The sleep he did get was only due to the amount if beer he'd consumed last night.

Going into the study she rubbed her head at the littering of bottles along with the overflowing ashtray. The cold breeze blew in from the open window and out on the street she could hear the activity of the neighborhood. Cars driving by, chatter from people on the corner waiting on the bus, people walking by talking on their phones or singing opening along with their iPods. She pulled the window close, shutting out the noise from the neighborhood, before cleaning up.

Dropping the bottles in the bin, she emptied the ashtray then tossed it on the table. Bobby was at the stove completely looking lost in the process of cooking and in his head.

"So, got any plans for today?"

Bobby didn't look up from the stove as he answered, "I'm visiting my mother."

"Oh, ok. Terry and Liz are coming over in a few hours with the twins and Nate."

It was subtle, the way he paused when flipping over the omelet, and his hesitation caused her concern. Was this suddenly going to be an issue for him? They had been over this, her family was welcomed there. Deciding to voice her concern, she asked, "What now?"

Bobby kept his eyes on the food he was cooking as he simply answered, "Nothing."

"No, see, that wasn't nothing I just saw. You hesitated."

"It's nothing. If you want your family over...the more the merrier."

Alex could read him better than most and she knew he wasn't being completely honest with her, but instead of trying to get it out of him she backed off. It would only end in an argument anyway. "You're not obligated to stay if that's what you're worried about. I'll never stop you from seeing your mom."

"You'd do that? Let me leave."

"Yes, I would, and do you know why? Because I've gotten to know you pretty well by now and I've come to expect certain things from you, like how you're not going to change even though we're now living together. You're going to do what you want, when you want, so why should I try to stop you. It's a wasted effort."

"A wasted effort…" he said slowly, repeating the words back to her. Then, he gave her a nod and went back to cooking.

Shaking her head at his behavior, Alex left the kitchen and headed to the bedroom. She needed to get cleaned up and there was no time to deal with that man right then. The only thing she was grateful for was that he was cooking breakfast.

As she was trying to get her shirt sleeve over her cast, she heard a noise down the hallway. Leaving the room, she called out, "Bobby, I need your help with my shirt."

Rounding the corner, she nearly collided with Bobby as he walked into the hall. He stared down at her for a moment, looking confused, until she held up her arm. Dangling off the end of it was her buttoned down shirt.

"Oh," he mumbled as he bent down and that was when she noticed the toolbox in his right hand.

Before she could ask, Bobby took hold of her shirt and helped her to get it over the cast and then around her shoulders. Slipping her right arm into the other sleeve, she said, "Thanks," as she started to button it up. "What's with the toolbox?"

Bobby didn't give her much of an answer; only a mumbled, "I gotta do something" as he took the toolbox in hand and stepped into the hall and right up to the door of the study.

Alex had known something was going on with him, that he wasn't quite himself. However, she had no idea the extent of how much she'd been right until she stood in the foyer watching him put a lock on the study door.

Realizing that she was still watching him, Bobby explained, "I'm not comfortable with your nieces and nephew getting in here."

"Don't you think a lock's a bit extreme? I know how to keep an eye on them," she stressed but he continued to screw in the metal plates for the lock. It was a key lock, she noticed, and as Bobby picked it up he took the key out of it and put it into his pocket before snapping it on. "Feel better?"

Bobby only nodded as gathered up the toolbox and went back into the foyer to put it away in the coat closet.

Taking a breath, she asked, "Bobby, what's going on? This can't be about-"

"It is," he interrupted her as he closed the closet door. Bobby turned to her as he started for the hall. "You're the one who said that kids shouldn't be subjected to the things I read."

"But a lock…"

He shrugged as he continued down the hall to the bedroom. "Breakfast is done; you can eat without me," he called over his shoulder before he stepped into the room and closed the door.

TBC…


	36. Always the logical one

A/N: Thank you for the wonderful reviews!

First part is kind-of rated M.

Enjoy!

* * *

After he showered and got cleaned up, he found himself sitting on the bed half dressed with no energy to finish. He was dead on his feet and it felt as if everything in his body hurt. The physical beating he'd taken yesterday was taking a toll on him now; the sore and stiffness of his muscles, the random spasms through his back, his chest and face…

Groaning, he leaned over his knees and stayed that way with his head buried in his hands. Even when he heard the door open he didn't move. He felt he couldn't. The bed bounced slightly as she sat down beside him and it wasn't until he felt her arm around him that he moved. Leaning into her half embrace, face buried in her shoulder, he let her hold him.

"You don't have to be so strong all the time. You can let it out," she softly spoke into his ear as his body shook from the awkward angle.

Shifting sideways to take the twisting motion off his back, he ended up taking them both down onto the bed. She kept her arm trapped between his neck and the bed as she shifted closer to him, giving him a kiss over his cheek and then his lips. Pulling her into him with his right arm, he deepened the kiss and kept them there until they needed air.

Shivering at the feel of the tips of her fingers skimming over his bare skin, he looked down to see her small hand sticking out from the cast and sighed. Lightly taking her hand in his, he pulled it up to his lips and kissed over her fingertips.

"Keep doing that I'll have to give you an encore performance of last night."

Bobby peered into her teasing eyes as he continued kissing and then sucking at her fingers until she rolled her eyes and pushed him away. "You thought that saying that would deter me?"

Alex laughed as she pushed him until he was on his back and she was stretched out across his body. Then her playfulness turned serious as she said, "We need to talk."

"We do?" he innocently asked as he rubbed his hands up under her shirt and along her skin.

Cutting right to the chase, Alex took a deep breath and said, "Major Case. What am I-"

"Alex," he cut her off as he rubbed at his head. He knew what she was worried about, and honestly he was worried as well but there wasn't much he could do about it except wait and hope for the best. "Once it all comes out…once they know the truth that I'm not corrupt, that I was undercover…It'll, work itself out. You'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about me. What about you? I know that I'll be forgiven and basically everything will go back to normal, but you're not just undercover. You're working for IA."

"And I'm not foolish enough to think that I won't get hell for being a rat," he told her as he kept his eyes closed as he felt a jolt of pain in his lower back. Shifting a little to get off his back, he rolled them back onto their sides, this time trapping Alex's injured arm under him, he said as he looked her in the eyes. "I understood the consequences before I agreed to do this, and if last night was any indication to how my fellow officers feel about me…" he trailed off because he couldn't get himself to say the rest.

Alex cupped his jaw and smoothed her thumb over the stubble on his cheek. "Are you sure you want to come back?"

Not knowing what she was trying to ask, he asked, "Wha-…You don't want me to?"

"No, I do, but I'm just thinking that maybe it'll be best if you stayed away."

"I'm not running away-"

"I didn't say you were or that you should. I can't help but be concerned for your well-being," she stressed to him as he groaned. "And stop being so stubborn."

"I'm-" he cut himself off as he felt the anger, the fight, returning. Pushing himself up onto his right arm, he leaned down and kissed her before saying, "I will not give up Major Case just because a couple of the detectives don't like me. It's where I belong and if I get to go back there, I'm going. Whatever happens after that…I'll deal with it."

"_We'll_ deal with it," she emphasized as she pulled him down for another kiss. "Don't forget I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that now," he teased but a small part of himself would always feel that to be true.

Alex only smiled at him and kissed him again as she moved under him, running her leg up between his legs.

Naturally he moved against her as he groaned at the sensation she caused within him. Caressing along her leg, he pulled it up to his hip as he rubbed along the fabric of her jeans. "You shouldn't tease me," he whispered against her mouth before moving his lips to the sweet spot on her neck.

Moaning, she bucked up into him as he sucked, licked and kissed over the sensitive skin. "Who said anything about teasing? As of this morning, you can have whatever you want."

That was all he had to hear before he tugged at her zipper. As she laughed at his sudden urgency and desperation, he managed to get her jeans off but didn't waste any time to get himself undressed as he pushed his boxers and jeans down far enough to get himself out before he was sinking into her. It took him all the energy and control he had left to not come the moment he was inside her. She felt so good, so warm and tight and just purely wonderful.

Only then, when he was settled inside of her depths, did he take the time to worship her body. As he slowly moved in her, he unbuttoned her shirt and using his hands, fingers, lips, tongue, and mouth, made her feel exactly how blessed he felt to still have her. He had to leave her a few times as he kissed lower on her abdomen then to her hips, her inner thighs, the back of her knees, before moving upward again to slide back into her. With each reentering it was like reigniting the fire and the more passionate it became until Alex wrapped her legs around his waist and held on tight.

At hearing her broken words and moans of encouragement, he lost himself completely while devouring her mouth in a kiss that tried to swallow all her screams until her trembling voice broke free. At hearing her strained silence as she came, he nearly cried out as he tensed and buried his face in her neck. He kept pushing, rocking into her until he had nothing left and his body gave.

She was still quivering and shaking under him and he could feel the last of her orgasm easing as he regained his composure by pulling out then rolling onto his back. Alex follow as she draped herself over his side and stayed.

After a few deep breaths, he asked, "Do I make you happy?"

"I'm happy right now."

"So, the sex makes you happy."

"We both came didn't we?"

"That's not…" he had to take a breath to be able to keep talking.

Alex, who recovered quicker than he ever could, propped her chin on his chest and stared at him. "I want to know what you think it means for me to be happy."

That took him by surprise. Bobby peered down at her as he wiped the sweat off his forehead and then ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know, that's why I asked. I…Last night I was thinking and I-I…I kept thinking that, that with intimacy, uh, being in a relationship, it's based on a few things…None of which I provide fully, to the extent of satisfying a, uh, a person like you to stay."

Alex raised her eyes to his and she looked confused, but more than that, amused. "And what exactly are these few things a relationship is based on according to you?"

Bobby squirmed under her as he continued to be taken off guard by her questioning. "Well…Okay, when a woman's with a man it's for many different reasons."

She suddenly pushed up on the bed and grew defensive as she stabbed him in the chest with her fingernail, and it hurt. "Wait a second, mister," she poked him again. "You're not about to give me the 'I'm a man' speech are you?"

Smirking a little, and just to goad her, he said, "But I am the man, it's only logical that-ow!" he shouted as he felt her pinch him in the ribs. Thankfully it was his right side. After the short shot of pain eased he started laughing. "Hey, I'm trying to be serious and actually talk."

"Can you do it without sounding like a typical male prick?"

Bobby kept laughing as he grabbed her left hand, the one he least suspected of pinching him since it was in a cast, and said, "I wasn't trying to sound like a prick, but it's the truth. Women want a man who's confident, strong, and able to provide a secure life based on-"

"Personality, ethics, morality."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Money. It's what all women want, Eames."

She shoved him hard and he laughed a little more. "He has to have a great sense of humor, intelligent, sensitivity-"

"That's what you say but not what you want."

Alex looked at him and asked, "How would you know?"

Bobby didn't answer right away as he hiked his boxers and jeans up around his hips and then scooted further up on the bed so he could prop himself up on the pillows. His neck and back were starting to hurt from laying flat on his back. "You say you want sensitive," he said once he was resting against the pillows, "but really if a man is going around apologizing all the time…It's pathetic. You'll get sick of it. Hell, I'll get sick of it. What you really want is just someone you can talk to, a man who'll listen, and take what you say into consideration. Sensitive has nothing to do with it. I can be sensitive and listen, but don't expect me to apologize."

"Like I would," she huffed out. "I've never once heard the words 'I'm sorry' out of your mouth unless it's when you accidentally step on my feet."

"That happened once," he said in his defense but he was smiling. "Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted me, no matter how we're raised or what we're taught, a man is still a man, Alex. I do possess fears of inaccuracy by not being able to properly provide for you as a man should."

That got her attention as she regarded him with a look of understanding. Alex moved up the bed only to straddle his waist. His hands immediately went to her sides, rubbing at her skin. She suddenly pointed at him, saying, "Is that why you're so insistent on paying for everything?"

As shameful as it was for him to admit it, he nod a little. "Partly, yeah. I need to feel like I'm doing something. You won't let me do anything."

"I let you do plenty…We're talking right now aren't we."

Bobby just looked at her. "I mean something productive….something, uh, physical that I can actually do."

Alex sat back on his thighs and took a moment to gather herself before leaning forward and taking his face in her hands. She kissed him with a smothering passion before pulling away, saying, "Fine, if it'll make you feel better pay the damn bills."

Now he was confused. He had been expecting more of a fight from her, not understanding and that kiss. "You're fine with that. With…letting me financially support you while you're living with me?"

She gave an indifferent shrug before saying, "If it's _that_ important to you. I can help out by buying the groceries or something." When he still couldn't say anything, she said, "It's compromising, Bobby. Couples do this all the time. Plus, that means I can save more money."

"You'll cook too." He started laughing when she playfully smacked him on the arm. "And I also need another cleaning lady."

Alex pushed him down into the pillows with her injured arm across his chest and pointed at him with her other hand. "Don't push your luck."

"You could not only be my dirty nurse but my naughty maid…"

Alex chuckled as she leaned down and kissed him, letting her tongue tease his lips before slipping inside his mouth.

Despite the teasing, he was thinking about what she had said about compromising. Rubbing at his head he had to remember that. Hadn't Elliot told him that he had to compromise? Nowhere in his mind did he think that Alex would be the one making sacrifices. Bobby always thought that he had to be the one to change, or at least to give something up to gain something, or to be the one to bow out to keep the peace. After all, he was usually the one that couldn't keep a relationship together; who always had the problems.

Once the kiss ended, Alex laid down on his chest but continued to kiss over his skin as her fingers played with his chest hair.

"How do I make you happy?" he asked again.

"Bobby, you know the answer to that."

"Do I? Last night, all I could come up with was that the only thing keeping you with me was the sex."

"And that's why you asked me if the sex makes me happy?" she asked in obvious annoyed disbelief. At seeing his despair with trying to voice what was going on in his head, she took pity on him by saying, "Sex in only part of an intimate relationship, it's important yeah but it's not everything, especially to me."

"Right," he said as he finally got to the point where he could focus. "Aside from the part that's sexual…how do I make you happy?"

"In many different ways."

"Stop deflecting."

Alex's elbow dug into his left side, making him grunt in pain, as she pushed herself up to glare down at him. He bit his lip to keep from screaming as she said in hast, "I'm not deflec-…Bobby?" With seeing the pain on his face, she looked down in confusion and then horror as she quickly moved off his chest. "Oh God! I'm so sorry! I forgot about the bruises…Are you okay?"

Nodding his head because it was all he could do, he closed his eyes and willed the pain and tears away.

"Babe," she said as he felt her hands on his face. "Sorry," she followed the apology with kisses over his lips and cheeks.

Through the pain that had ripped through his chest, he realized that she had called him 'babe' and for some reason, that made him want to laugh.

At hearing him chuckle lightly, she asked, "What's so funny?"

Through clenched teeth as he still felt the pain in his ribs, he told her, "You've never called me babe before, it sounded funny."

"I really am sorry."

"It's okay," he said, ignoring the apology for something that was clearly an accident, as he opened his eyes.

Her face was right above his so he lifted his head up to give her a kiss. Then a pounding sounded down the hall from the front door. Somebody was knocking…A lot of some bodies were knocking by the various different sized hands he heard hitting his door.

"I think your family's here. I detect two pairs of little girl fists and one from an irritating woman that looks remarkably like you but taller and not as beautiful."

"How'd you know it's not Terry?"

"Believe me, it's Liz. I can tell by the impatience of the knocking. I bet Terry's holding Nathan."

Alex laughed as she gave him another kiss before rolling out of bed. Finding her panties and jeans, she said, "You're gonna have to get the door. I need a minute."

Getting up, he fastened his jeans then grabbed a black t-shirt out of the dresser on his way to the hallway. As he pulled the shirt on, he called back, "To be continued?"

"Same bat hour, same bat time."

He stopped midway down the hall and turned around to see her laughing at her own little joke. "Does that make me Batman?"

"Get the door, Goren," Alex said as she walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

Shaking his head at the love of his life, he went down the hall to the foyer. Unlocking the locks, he pulled open the door just as Nathan went to knock and instead his little hand knocked him in the head causing the twins to laugh.

"I think that means you're too close," Terry teased. When the little boy saw it was him, he squealed in his father's arms and flung himself at him. "He missed you, Bobby," he said as he let his son jump in his arms.

As Bobby took Nathan, the twin girls rushed around his legs and into the apartment before he could move out of the way.

"Hey," Liz greeted as he let her and Terry into the foyer before shutting the door. "Where's Alex?"

"In the bathroom, she'll be out in a minute. She's…cleaning up."

Terry caught his eyes and gave him a knowing grin as he said, "I bet you're going to have to have a minute to get cleaned up too, huh?"

Liz groaned and shook her head. "T.M.I.! I didn't need to hear that," she announced as she shot her husband a glare before pointing down the hall. "Bathroom?"

"Door on the right." Bobby watched as she went in search for her sister as he put Nathan down and helped the kid take his coat off. Once Nathan was free, he was on a dead run down the hall after his mom.

"This is okay, isn't it" Terry asked as he grabbed his nieces coats off the couch where they had thrown them once inside the warm house.

Taking the coats from him, Bobby put them away in the closet as he answered, "Yeah, it's fine. I, uh, I wasn't expecting anyone over today, but…" he shrugged as he started for the kitchen. "Coffee?"

Before Terry could answer one of the twins, Bobby had no idea which, asked from the couch, "Can we play your games Uncle Bobby?"

At hearing the little girl call him that, he stilled for a moment as he stared into their pleading eyes.

"Please, can we?" the other sister asked and her voice was what pulled him out of his moment of shock as he nodded.

"Uh, sure," Bobby said as he walked over and took the remote off the coffee table. Putting the TV on the right setting, he powered on the Play Station and waited until they chose a game before putting it in for them.

As he started back toward the kitchen, he heard Terry say behind him, "Mario Kart, nice.'

Bobby smirked as he said, "Actually, that one was left by a friend of mine. He just hasn't bothered to get it back from me yet." Making himself and Terry and cup of coffee, he handed the cup to the guy before going over the counter and leaning on it while Terry sat at the table.

"Cop friend?"

"No…Lewis is a mechanic. Well, he does more than that. He restores classic muscle cars, anything made in that era…" he trailed off as he took a sip of the coffee and rubbed at the pain that shot through his left side when he swallowed.

"So, how is that Mustang of yours running in this cold?"

"Like a dream." He smiled as he thought about the performance of his car. "She's holding her own."

"Driving a clutch isn't killing your leg yet?"

Bobby laughed as he said, "Actually, it's not too bad. I mostly drive around Brooklyn, and when I go upstate to visit my mother. If I had to drive it around Manhattan, _then_ I'll consider making it an automatic. The constant shifting, tapping the clutch in stop-and-go traffic all day, no thanks."

"What're you boys talking about?" Liz asked as she came into the kitchen followed by Alex.

"Bobby's Mustang." "My car." They said in union, making both women laugh at the seriousness in which they responded.

Alex hummed and then leaned over the counter to kiss him on the lips. "You're not complaining about the clutch yet are you? I told you should've gotten an automatic."

Terry's jaw nearly dropped and Bobby chuckled. "I still can't believe you and Liz are sisters. Liz wouldn't know the clutch from a brake pedal."

Liz shot him another glare as she said, "In my defense-"

"She hates cars," Alex interrupted before she could finish. Pouring herself another cup of coffee, she explained, "Our dad tried to teach her but she was too busy fixing her makeup and talking to Tommy Freeman on the phone all day."

"I was going to say I was the girly-girl and Alex was the tom-boy, but…"

"That's what Alex just said," Terry told his wife. "Only she made it more entertaining."

Bobby laughed at the teasing jabs from the close-knit family, but inwardly, subconsciously, he was watching for any signs of hostility. That at any moment, the playful good-natured fun would turn disastrous. His body was tensed and he was fidgety as he waited for the outburst of anger. It wasn't something he noticed because the response was one that he had done so often and for so long that it was almost instinctive.

He didn't realize it until Alex put a hand on his shoulder and he felt how tight his muscles were. His jaw was even tensed. Rubbing a hand over his jaw and then around to his neck, to tried to ease the tension.

Her hand joined his and at rubbing his shoulder, Alex said, "You need to relax."

"I'm trying. It's…I think I'm just going to be stiff for a while. I know I'm still sore from yesterday."

"We should get massages and have the department flip the bill for them. Claim compensation."

Bobby smiled as he took a sip of the coffee as he walked around the counter. "I'm going to get, uh…finished dressing. I do want to visit my mother today."

Alex gave him a reassuring nod, letting him know it was still okay.

He hesitated in the entryway as they kept their eyes on each other. With no care that other people were in the room, he leaned across the counter and kissed her hard before muttering as he backed away, "How many different ways?"

"Oh, I'll say about three," she sarcastically teased.

Bobby just laughed. "Still two more than what I could come up with," he said as he walked out of the room.

"What was that?" she called after him. "And don't say-"

Bending back around the frame sideways, he simply said as he interrupted her, "You love me, therefore, I make you happy."

"Always the logical one."

"Believe me, Alex, when it comes to us loving each other, there is nothing logical about it." Bobby left her contemplating that as he headed for the bedroom to finally finish dressing.

* * *

How he ended up on his doorstep he couldn't exactly remember. All he knew was that on the drive back to Brooklyn from the town of Carmel in upstate New York, he didn't think he was ready to go home yet. That he couldn't go to that apartment with Alex's family there in the mental state he was in. Her family, especially her nieces and nephew did not need to see him like that. Battered and bruised…figuratively of course.

The emotions that coursed through him were sharp, jagged, and raw. So, instead of going home, he was standing on a doorstep in Manhattan and knocking until he heard the chain slid and bolts turned.

When Mike opened the door and saw it was him, he griped, "Looks like we both drowned at the bottom of the same bottle last night."

Bobby did say anything as he moved pass Logan into the living room. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Nah, I always spend the holidays alone. That wasn't supposed to sound as depressing as it did. I actually do prefer it that way. Just me, myself, and football. Have a seat."

He had already been sitting when Logan offered for him to sit. Staring up at the ceiling and the fan that was circling above, Bobby said, "I don't know what to do, Mike."

"So the man with the plan no longer has one. I'm worried."

"My head is so…bombarded with personal issues, with Alex and our relationship, that I can't focus. You know, it used to be just work. From the time I woke to the time I went to sleep, all I thought about was work, theories…working out the plan. How to get from point A to point B. I haven't been to the library in over a month."

"Okay, now you lost me. Library?"

"Research. I haven't researched anything in over a month. I'm too distracted by personal problems that I've been neglecting my job."

"If it matters, I think you've done a helluva job so far. You got that Connelly kid for murder. You single-handedly took down corruption on Staten Island-"

"Yeah, by screwing everything up," he mumbled as he felt the failure rip through his heart once again.

"Screwed up or not, you got the job done."

"Stapleton's dead, Alex's-"

"Alive and complaining because she can't kick your ass with only one arm. She'll get better, it'll heal. She'll be throwing punches again, left and right, in no time."

Bobby finally shifted his eyes away from the ceiling to look over at Mike. Logan was leaned back in he recliner sipping on a bottle of beer and watching the a college football game. The Rose Bowl…maybe. He didn't know. The only reason he usually kept up with sports anymore was to have something to talk about that wasn't literarily. Well, except for baseball. He still really liked baseball.

As he stared at the television, he couldn't help but think about his visit to Carmel Ridge and why he had wanted to visit his mother that day. How it couldn't wait until tomorrow, Sunday, like always.

_Pressing the code for the door, he saw the red light flick to green and quickly pulled it open to this mother's wing. As he waited for it to shut and the locks to click back in place, he saw someone down the hall. The image of a man and when he looked up, he was stunned. _

_Standing down the hall, outside his mother's room, was Frank. He had just talked to Frank…His brother had told him he was busy, that he couldn't talk. Anger flared as he left the door and headed straight for the man._

_Frank looked up and stared in surprise and then fear as he approached. Holding his hands up in front of him, Frank went to speak but before he could say anything, he pushed him hard until he was stumbling back into the wall._

"_How much?'_

"_Bob-"_

"_How much?" he asked again, keeping his voice low and deadly as he stared hard at his brother._

"_I didn't ask for it, she gave it to me."_

_He grabbed his brother's jacket and held him against the wall as he pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he saw a couple hundred bills along with a few twenties, fives, and ones. "Mom's not here to pay off your debts, Frank."_

"_She offered," Frank protested as he tried to grab for the wallet. "You know how she is. Every time I show up she-"_

"_Gives you money. It's the only reason you come around. You know it's the holidays, she's going to feel like giving you more than a few bucks, so you show up on Christmas and today for a handout." He shoved the wallet into his brother's chest and held up the two bills. "I'm giving it back."_

"_I need that."_

"_Then get a job."_

"_I have a job," Frank shot back as he stepped away from the wall._

"_A real job. One that'll pay for an apartment instead of cheap motel rooms." He started for his mother's room when Frank called after him._

"_She's not in there."_

_Stopping with his hand on the doorknob, he turned and eyed his brother before pushing the door open. Sure enough, his mother wasn't there. "Well, where is she?"_

"_They took her…" Frank said as his voice lowered. "She…I don't know what happened, but she started complaining of headaches or something and they took her."_

"_Headaches? They wouldn't take her away for headaches."_

"_I don't know," Frank defensively said as he straightened his jacket. Stepping up to him, he said, nearly pleading, "C'mon, Bobby, give me the money back. It's not for a gambling debt, okay. I'm getting clean. It's for rehab."_

_Staring down into the blue eyes of his brother, he knew he lying. "Keep talking, maybe one of these days I just might believe you."_

"_Why would I lie about that? Here," Frank pulled out a pamphlet that had been stuffed into his jacket pocket and handed it to him. "N.A. I've got a sponsor and everything. He suggested the rehab. It's four hundred. I got half paid already."_

"_You could've asked me first."_

"_You would've said no," Frank shot back and it hurt because he knew he was right. He would have said no. "I know I've cried wolf so many times, but I'm not lying. I wish I could be like you, ya know, always honest. You were the lucky one…I wish I had been so lucky."_

_He knew Frank was only trying to talk him up in order to get him to feel guilty, and he hated it because it was working. He closed his eyes and shook his head. How both his mother and Frank could get it so wrong about him, about how he grew up, still amazed him. According to Frank, because he hadn't been pressured into always having to be perfect by their father that it meant that nothing horrible had ever happened to him. And his mother, she didn't know which memories were real and what weren't half the time, but she never noticed his world anyway to fully understand what he had gone through as a child. All the lying, the secrets, the shame and fear, guilt._

_The abuse and betrayals…everyone in their family had suffered; he wasn't lucky. He had only managed to keep himself afloat by vowing to never be like any of them and in doing so he had completely cut himself off from being able to truly be happy with anything. He had pushed not only the world away, but people as well. And when anyone got close enough, he lied to them. Sometimes to the point of pure denial._

_Maybe he wasn't so different from the rest of his family after all._

_Alex was the only woman to ever stick with him because he figured she believed in him. Held out hope for him. _

_Frank was needing that same kind of hope. He needed someone to believe in him. And, fuck it, he was his brother. If he screwed him over with this, he would just find his own way of paying his mother back._

_Holding the bills out, he asked, "What clinic?"_

_Frank smiled a little as he took it. "Mount Sinai has a program. It starts next week."_

"_I'll be checking."_

_Frank glanced at him as he put the money back in his wallet. "Thanks, Bobby."_

"_Yeah, don't thank me. I'm doing it for mom. She still believes in you, has faith. She thinks I underestimate you all the time."_

"_I'm sorry."_

_At hearing that soft apology from his brother, he felt the anger stir up in him because he knew that Frank was going to disappoint him. That their mother's faith in him was useless. Shaking his head, he said, "Just…" he held up his hand then waved it away, saying, "Leave, okay."_

"_You always come on Sunday," Frank said as he started walking._

_He watched as Frank left the wing before go in search of someone who could tell him what was going on with his mother._

Closing his eyed, he rubbed at his head as the world around him came back into focus. He could hear the announcers and whistles being blown on the TV as well as the hum from the heat kicking on. Opening his eyes, he glared at the television then looked over at Logan who was acting oblivious to the fact that he'd been staring off, lost in his head for a while.

"Got another one of those," he asked as gestured to the beer bottle in Logan's hand.

"Yea, help yourself," Logan answered without looking away from the game.

Bobby got up and headed for the kitchen as he took off his coat and tossed it on the back of a chair as he passed. After getting a beer, he sat back down on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table without much thought, and Mike didn't seem to mind as he didn't say anything about it. "You got any family?"

Logan huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Nope, they're all long gone."

"No siblings?"

Shaking his head again, he said, "Just me."

"Want my brother?"

Logan started laughing but didn't answer him as he took a sip of the beer and kept watching the game. Then, he said, "I'll leave him to you. I don't think he liked me very much."

"What makes you think he likes me any better?"

At that, Logan did look over at him as he told him, "Maybe because he does. You two make each other miserable for a reason. If you didn't love someone, you wouldn't be bothered by what they did or didn't do."

Bobby looked over at Logan as he thought about that. He figured Mike was right; if he didn't love Frank so much, he wouldn't feel anything, not even disappointment. "Why won't he come to me for help?"

Logan didn't respond right away as he looked over him and whirled the bottle around by the neck. "He's older than you, right?"

"Yeah."

"He's ashamed. You're his younger brother; he should be the one helping you out, not vice versa."

"Pride? No, I don't think he has any trouble with pride."

"How'd you know?"

_How did he know? _Bobby shook his head as he realized that was second time today he had no answer to that question. He thought he did, but the truth was he didn't. He wasn't Frank, and he wasn't Alex. He was just Bobby, and right then it was hard for him to figure out just what being Bobby meant.

He thought, as he took a drink of the beer, that he would never figure that mystery out. Not without forced therapy because, according to him, he was just fine.

* * *

"So, why is there a lock on that door," Terry asked as he came into the living room after chasing Nathan down the hall and back.

"Bobby had a momentary lapse of sanity this morning. I think it's his time of the month."

Liz chuckled as she pointed to her husband. "And don't say anything; men do have their own time during the month when they suffer serious mood swings."

"I wasn't going to say anything except for I know. I read it in _Men's Health_; our testosterone starts going crazy and we freak out."

"No, that's called being in heat," Alex shot back as she chose a card from the deck and groaned. "How come I'm always going to jail?"

"Because that's where you send people all the time," Amber said with a giggle.

"Great, Monopoly karma." Alex moved her silver dog to the jail on the board game before getting up off the floor as the timer went off in the kitchen. "Pizza's done."

"I'll help," Terry said as he followed her into the kitchen. "What's in the room?"

"Books, and a porn stash."

Terry stared at her before smiling and giving a nod. "Gotcha."

"It's not like that. Although, if I wanted normal I should wish that it was like that. Bobby, because he's such a great profiler, is also a research freak. If a suspect has some weird, sexual fetish, I bet Bobby has some magazines covered in post-it notes about it." Alex pulled the pizza pan out of the oven and placed it on top of the stove. "Hmm, smells just like delivery."

Terry chuckled at her as he pulled out a can of soda out from the refrigerator and then grabbed two cups. "Videos too?"

"I don't know, I've never looked in the closet."

Terry nearly died from laughter as he opened one can of soda and divided it between the two cups. "Wanna snap the lock off and find out?"

Alex shook her head at her brother-in-law before saying, "After the kiddos are asleep, and I've had way too much to drink to care about Bobby's reaction…then maybe."

"Alright, we have tonight's events planned. Getting you drunk and breaking into the mysteriously locked room."

"If there's one thing I like about you, Terry, you know how to keep things lively."

"There's just one?" he teasingly asked as she searched around for the pizza cutter.

"Help me find the damn pizza cutter and I'll make it two," Alex said as she pushed another drawer close.

Terry started searching around and then asked, "Does he even have one?"

"If he doesn't, I do. It could still be packed in a box…Ha! Found it," she triumphantly exclaimed as she pulled it out of the dishwasher. "And just my luck, I still have to wash it first."

Terry watched her for a moment before saying, "You know, I can do that."

Alex shot him a look as she said, "I can handle it. I may have the use of one arm, but all my fingers still work."

Terry smirked and shook his head.

She saw a contemplative look come over his face and she had to ask, "What?"

He leaned against the counter as he crossed his arms over his chest. It was a move she had seen her brother-in-law do before, and it was always followed by something serious. Alex cut the water off and dried the utensil as she turned to face him and braced for whatever Terry had to say.

"Alex," he said as he looked to the floor. "We didn't just come over to see you. I mean, we did, but…" Terry caught her eyes and he sighed heavily. Stepping closer to her, he placed his hand on hers, stopping her movements.

Alex waited patiently and now suddenly a little scared as Terry hesitated, but before he could finish, the back door opened and Bobby stumbled in.

She watched as he cursed and stomped the snow off his boots before shutting the door and locking it. When he turned and saw them, he glanced between the two of them and his features darkened.

Alex was confused by the turn of his mood so quickly that she was at a loss of words as he walked further into the room and right up to Terry.

Leaning into Terry, Bobby told him, "Let go of her."

Terry, confused and a little afraid, stumbled out, "What?"

Before she could say anything, or react, Bobby grabbed Terry's hand and twisted it back. As Terry screamed, Alex grabbed Bobby and pulled him back while telling him to let go. When he didn't, she did the only thing she could think of to do. She hit him.

As Bobby stumbled sideways, he let go of Terry as Liz's voice yelled, "What's going on in here? Bobby!"

While Liz continued to demand what was going on, Alex stood staring at Bobby as he leaned against the wall and rubbed his face. Terry was staring at him as well as he rubbed his wrist, and Liz was seconds from going ape shit on the both of them, but mostly Bobby.

Alex finally shook herself from her shock as she told Liz, "Enough! Everything is okay. Just a misunderstanding."

Liz looked from her to Terry and then to Bobby. "Misunderstanding of what?"

Terry looked at his wife as he answered, "I was about to tell Alex…She was nervous so I took her hand in mine. Then Bobby walked in, got the wrong impression and…Alex hit him."

Alex noticed that Terry didn't mention to her about Bobby grabbing his hand and twisting it back, but she was grateful for that…in a way.

That seemed to relax Liz but not by much as she looked at Bobby again. "Are you drunk?"

Bobby only nodded as he kept his hand on his face. Then, slurring a little, he said, "I need-a sit down." He didn't wait for anyone to help him as he slid down the wall and sat on the floor.

Alex crouched down in front of him and asked, "Did you drive?"

He shook his head and winced at the movement. "Took the train from Logan's."

"You were at Mike's? After you went upstate?" When Bobby only nodded, Alex got up and turned to Terry. "I'm sorry. I don't know what-"

"It's okay," Terry shrugged as he stepped over Bobby's legs to grab the two cups of soda and handed them to the twins.

Alex hadn't realized they had been standing there watching until just then. Closing her eyes, she shook her head then glared down at Bobby who had closed his eyes. It looked like he was asleep but then he peered up at her and she could see the pain in his eyes. "Big idiot."

"Is that one of the reasons?"

Alex huffed out a laugh. "It's about ready to be, but not one of the reasons you think." She went over to the stove and quickly cut up the pizza into slices and grabbed plates. Dishing the food out, she handed them to the adults and the then the kids and told them, "Can you leave us for a moment, please?" she asked as she rubbed at her forehead. It was starting to hurt from an oncoming headache.

"C'mon," Liz said as she guided the twins out of the room.

Terry lingered for a moment as he told her, "Go easy on him. He doesn't look too good."

Alex gave him a soft smile and nod at his understanding before turning back to Bobby. "I can't believe you got jealous of Terry."

"I'm not jealous," he protested but it was a weak one. Bobby breathed as he looked away, saying, "…'kay, but only a little."

Smirking, she shook her head again and groaned. "Why did you have to go see her today? It couldn't have waited-"

"I didn't get to see her. They wouldn't let me. I saw Frank."

Alex didn't know what to say to that but she nodded, encouraging him if he wanted to say more but she didn't think he would. He didn't.

Sliding up the wall to his feet, he stumbled a little to the side but caught himself on the counter. Alex grimaced at the look of pain that darkened and twisted his features before he nodded, saying, "I'm okay. I thought…um, I, uh, I thought they would've been gone by now. Should've called first."

"We were having fun. I told them it was okay, they could stay. It's a long drive back to Staten Island and we've all been drinking."

Nodding, Bobby chuckled at that. "Yeah, we have," he spoke softly as he regarded her a little more somberly. "I'll leave."

"You live here."

"But you were having fun…I'm not having any fun."

That pained her to hear because for a moment she didn't know if he meant right then or if it had meant something more. "You're not going anywhere, Goren. Take off your boots and go to bed. You need sleep and-"

"No, no, no," he shook his head as he headed for the backdoor. "I don't want to sleep. I'll leave, okay, so you can get back to your family."

"Dammit," she muttered as she grabbed him, keeping him from leaving as she rounded in front of him.

She didn't know what to expect from her bold move, especially since his head wasn't in the right place at the moment, but when he pushed her up against the door Alex couldn't help the yelp or the sudden rush of fear.

Bobby, despite his drunkenness, noticed and he flinched as if he'd been hit again. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Alex sighed and nodded. "I know that."

His eyes searched hers and for a moment she saw the disappointment in he felt before he smiled. It was a soft smile that held more pain than happiness, as he said, "I'll just…be in the car."

"You didn't drive, remember."

Smiling a little more, but looking like he was about to shattered, he told her, "I lied."

She glared hard at him as she said, "And you didn't think I would find out? All I had to do was look out the door."

He shook his head as he said, "I know, I just…couldn't help it. I didn't want you to be mad."

"Too late for that. You could've killed someone, or yourself, got arrested…hit a pole." When he shrugged, she wanted to hit him again. Instead, she reached up and rubbed his swollen cheek and sighed. "You should go to bed, Bobby."

Bobby closed his eyes against her touch and then suddenly, he started to shake as he said, "I failed…Alex, I'm so sorry."

As he buried his head into her neck and shoulder, she held him tight to her as she whispered, "God, Bobby, why do you have to torture yourself so much?"

She wasn't expecting an answer, but the one he gave her nearly broke her heart.

He trembled against her as he answered softly as his voice broke, "Because I care."

TBC…


	37. There's enough blood in the water

A/N: I appreciate the reviews, keep them coming and thank you!

* * *

A noise awakened him but as he stayed in bed, eyes closed, and listened all he heard was the soft breathing of Alex beside him. Breathing out, and pushing the concern away, he drifted back to sleep. Sometime later, he felt her stir against his side; at feeling the pressure of her body pressing into his, he pulled her close, wrapping his leg around hers as he fell back into a light slumber.

Then, he heard a noise again. Fighting against the darkness that wanted to enclose around him, he forced his eyes open into the dark bedroom. There was someone there, in the dark. He couldn't see who it was but he heard the soft noises and it wasn't Alex's breathing.

Pushing up in bed, he searched the room as his eyes tried to adjust to the dark. He noticed his door was slightly open, something that they never did, and a spike of fear rushed through him as he slowly got out of bed and went for his gun.

As he grabbed his gun off the dresser, a soft voice came from just inside the door and he nearly jumped at the sound. Staring down at the floor, his foggy tired head cleared as he realized what he was hearing. It was a child's voice, and he breathed out a deep breath as he dropped the gun back to the dresser. Rubbing at his head and eyes, he walked over to the door and looked down.

Nathan was sitting on the floor, playing with the strings to one of his boots and babbling softly. Bobby figured the kid was coming into the room thinking it was where his mom and dad were and got distracted. Leaning down, he picked the little boy up and sighed as Nathan didn't put up a fight but instead rested against his body.

"What're you doing up?" he quietly asked as he left the room. Feeling the sogginess of the diaper, he groaned as he realized why the boy was up.

"Bop," Nathan said as he smacked him in the chest. That had always been his way of greeting him, with a smack to the chest.

Going into the living room, he saw the twins still asleep on the pull-out bed from Alex's couch. Liz and Terry were in the study on the other pull-out from his couch. Not wanting to wake the parents, he searched around for Nathan's diaper bag and found it next to the recliner. He had never changed a baby's diaper before, but he'd seen it done.

Taking Nathan and the bag into the bathroom, he sat down on the toilet seat and laid the boy on the floor. As he pulled out a diaper a toy car fell out of the bag. Giving the toy to Nathan, hoping it would distract him while he changed him, he got to work on cleaning the boy up. Thankfully the kid had only peed because he was in no condition to deal with the other at the moment. His head was spinning slightly, a testament to how drunk he had gotten himself last night, and it would have probably made him sick. Then that would have been a very bad thing.

Tossing the wipes away, he got the diaper on and stood Nathan up. As he buttoned up the pajamas, Nathan wrapped his arms around his neck and wouldn't let go. He felt the kiss on his cheek before he realized what it was and then he nearly moved away before smiling slightly. This kid was very loving and affectionate, indicating to him that his parents treated him the same. With lots of hugs and kisses. Not wanting to disappoint the little guy, he gave him a kiss on his cheek and was thanked for it by the sweetest smile he had ever seen.

"Ready to go back to bed?" When Nathan shook his head no, he chuckled. "Then what do you think we should do?"

Nathan looked at him for a moment and Bobby wasn't expecting an answer. The boy was only a little over a year old and knew a few words and sounds. What Nathan did do was hold up his toy car and start driving to over his face and head.

Bobby couldn't help it, he laughed. "Okay, wanna play. We can play. C'mon." Picking Nathan up, he grabbed the bag and headed into the kitchen.

As Nathan played with his toys on the floor, he sat at the table watching him. His head was lying on his crossed arms and he couldn't help but think about his own childhood as he observed the little boy. The bad times had helped to define him, made him put up walls and be highly aware of how the world could tear his heart out. However, the good times had helped him to have a little bit of hope despite it all.

The good things he remembered were summers spent on Brighton Beach with his grandfather before he got too sick and had to close his club down. He remembered awkward school dances and sneaking out to smoke and drink beer in the gymnasium parking lot. Staying out too late on school nights with his first girlfriend Jackie Marino, and then later on with his second, Julia Giordano, and taking the train around Brooklyn until dawn.

Julia had been the first girl who wanted to marry him. She wanted him to work in her father's diner with her and raise kids together for the rest of their lives. That kind of living scared him to death. He wasn't made to wait on customers and raise kids. Her heart was the first of many he had broken in his younger years while he traveled around the world trying to figure out what it meant to be his own man.

Then there were his younger days spent running around the neighborhood with his brother before Frank got too old and to afraid to keep getting into trouble with him. And they used to get into a lot of trouble but it was all innocent fun, at least that was what he always thought at the time. Growing up in Canarsie, there wasn't much a boy could do that didn't at some point involve breaking the law. Helping to steal buckets of ice cream out of the back of the ice cream truck was the funniest things he remembered doing, and that was when he was eight.

One of the most serious crimes he had committed was when he was eleven. It wasn't long after their father had left, and he and Frank, along with some neighborhood kids, were playing stickball in the street. With his rep for being able to knock the hell out of a ball, he was always put up to bat with the bases loaded. First pitch, he had hit the ball so hard it broke out a car window down the street.

All the kids took off except for him, Frank, and a kid named Sean Callaghan who was the middle son of the only Irish family in the predominantly Italian/Jewish neighborhood at the time. Sean acted as lookout as he climbed through the window to find the ball. Frank kept trying to get him to leave it and go home with him but he was determined to get the ball back.

Then, he had found the keys.

The first car he had ever driven was that car he'd stolen for the day when he was eleven years old. A '69 Camaro. It was also the first time that Frank didn't go with him. While him and Sean went on a joyride around Brooklyn, before returning the car to the neighborhood but two blocks shy of where they had gotten it because it had run out of gas, Frank had walked home.

Frank had been scared to death of what their father would do if he were to find out. He remembered calling Frank a coward in a fit of anger as his brother walked away. It had felt like Frank had abandoned him just like their father did.

That anger never seemed to go away after that. The more the days went on the less he saw of Frank. They grew apart and basically lived two entirely different lives even though they were in the same apartment. Where Frank had become star athlete, honor student, and their parents prodigy, he had become a reckless troublemaker who found trouble just for the sake of finding it.

How Frank turned out to be the brother going to Narcotics Anonymous and him being the cop, he would never know. The choices they made in their lives that formed the paths to their fates were too many for him to count. His decision to join the Army over staying in Canarsie was one of those choices. If he had stayed, if he hadn't had gotten out while he could, he would have probably ended up like Sean Callaghan who was in prison on assault with a deadly weapon and breaking-and-entry.

Then meeting Declan Gage, his mentor who turned him onto his true calling of being a profiler was another. While he was learning from Gage and serving his country, Frank had gotten deeper and deeper into their father's world. The world of gambling had destroyed his brother and so did the streets of Brooklyn.

He remembered coming home on leave once and getting a call to come to the hospital. Frank had been beaten unconscious by a bookie he owed money too. In Frank's jacket pocket, he had found the bag of drugs Frank had bought with the money he owed. It was then that he realized how far his brother had fallen. He knew then that he would probably never get his brother back.

He had stayed in the hospital until Frank had been discharged. Offering to pay his debt for him, Frank had promised that he would never do anything like that again but he knew his brother and the lies he told. Choosing to believe the lie, he paid his brother the money and told him to call him if he ever needed anything. Frank never called, never got help, and took a few more beatings before he finally learned his lesson to pay off his debts first before getting high.

Nathan patted him on his knee, getting his attention, before walking away into the living room. Bobby got up to follow, picking Nathan up as he got to him. On the couch, he saw an small unused Spiderman blanket and picked it up. Sitting down in the recliner, he wrapped the blanket around Nathan as he curled up in his lap and before he knew it, Nathan was asleep. Leaning back, he closed his eyes as thoughts of his brother broke his heart and sent him into a troubled sleep.

"_Giacomin"_

"_Your favorite player can't be a goalie, they don't do anything."_

"_They block the puck! Defend the goal, that's the most important position to be in. If the other team can't score-"_

_Frank stopped him and shook his head. "He stands there and watches until someone hit's the puck at him, anyone can do that. Walt Tkaczuk is the best player on the team, the Rangers would be nowhere without him. Besides, dad says so and he would know. He met the guy."_

_Getting agitated with his brother telling him who to like and not to like, he said, "I like Ed Giacomin."_

"_You're such a loser," Frank shook his head at him again and started walking._

"_I'll like to see you stand in front of a goal and let me hit the puck at you," he shot back at his brother as he started following. "I bet you hit the deck before I finish swinging."_

_They were a few houses down from their home, having been out all day playing and running around the neighborhood. The only reason they were going home now, before it was even dark, was because their dad had pulled up in his car at the park, telling Frank that he got them tickets to the Rangers game and to get home in a couple of hours so they could go._

_That was also why they were bickering back-and-forth over what New York Rangers hockey player was better. _

_Frank turned to him and asked incredulously, "You calling me a coward?"_

_He stepped up to his brother who was still a few inches taller than him and said, "I'm calling you a lying coward. Dad never met Tkaczuk." He held his ground, fists tight against his sides, but Frank stepped away and headed for the yard._

"_Yeah, he did. He said so."_

_Getting into the yard, he swung the gate close before bending down and balling up a ball of snow. "Hey, Frankie."_

_When his brother turned, he threw the snowball as hard as he could. The throw was off as it whizzed by Frank's head and hit the side of the house. _

_Frank had ducked, letting the snowball go by him as he yelled, "What the hell, Bobby?" He glared at him before balling up some snow and throwing it at him._

_Instead of ducking, he let it hit him in the chest before saying, "See, you're a coward. You ducked!"_

_That did anger Frank as he ran at him, tackling him and sending him to the ground where they struggled against each other as fists were thrown. Frank got him in the side but he got Frank in the face, knocking him off him. Getting on top of Frank, he held him down as Frank started yelling for help as he hit him again, catching his brother in the nose._

"_Bobby! Get off your brother!"_

_At hearing their father's deep angry bellow, he froze just as he felt his dad grab him and yank him off Frank before smacking him across the head and face until he stumbled back into the snow._

_Breathing hard, he watched as their dad helped Frank off the ground before glaring at the both of them. At seeing the blood that gushed from Frank's nose, his dad told him to get into the house and let mom check him out. Once Frank was up the steps to the second floor of the house, he turned his focus back to his dad._

_His dad worked his jaw back-and-forth with his hands on his hips; it was his tell that he was furious with him and ready to kick his ass. He sat there in the snow and waited. As his father stepped toward him, he kicked something out of the snow. Tumbling across the ground and coming to a stop at his legs was a frozen leather baseball glove._

_Bending down, his dad picked it up and examined it. When he looked back at him, the anger was back but this time he knew he was in big trouble. That glove had been a birthday present from his dad; one of few he had ever gotten from the man. "This yours? The one I gave you?"_

_He nodded but couldn't say anything._

"_You left it out here, all winter? It's ruined now. You never appreciate anything I get for you. You care about nothing. That's it," his dad said as he shook his head. "For now on, you get nothing from me seeing how you can't take care of anything." As his dad threw the glove in the trash bin, he called back, "Worthless piece of shit," and then stalked back up the steps and into the house, leaving him panting for air in the cold snow._

_His father could have been talking about the glove, but he knew the truth. The worthless piece of shit was him. He stayed sitting in the snow freezing until he saw Frank and his dad coming down the steps, ready to go to the hockey game. Unlike his "trips" with their dad to games, he knew that when he took Frank they actually went to Madison Square Garden._

_He knew that Frank had never met Maggie and never would. It was the reason he had gotten so upset with Frank; it was the reason why he had hit his brother and Frank didn't even know it. He would never let his brother know that he was jealous of him and his relationship with their father. He would always blame it on something else, like Frank being a coward or for Frank thinking that liking a goalie was a stupid thing to think._

_Picking himself up out of the snow, he slowly made his way up the steps and into the warmth of the house. The two story house had been turned into two separate homes. They lived on the second floor while an older couple lived below them. Closing the door behind him, he rubbed at his face and felt the wetness on his cheeks. Wiping the wetness away, and telling himself that it was from the snow and not tears, he walked by the smoky kitchen where his mother was sitting at the table and went to his room._

He was drifting in a light sleep when he felt movement against his chest. His arms wrapped tighter around the movement as he woke. Blinking his eyes open, he saw the glow from the television illuminating the dark living room. On the couch he saw both the twins awake as they laid on the fold-out bed watching the TV. Shifting to get comfortable, he felt a weight against him and when he looked down, Nathan was looking up at him.

When Nathan saw that he was awake, he closed his eyes and snuggled back into his chest. Looking over to the TV, Bobby saw that the girls were watching a cartoon that he didn't recognize. Rubbing at his head, he sat up in the recliner, bringing Nathan up with him cradled in his arms. As he went to stand, he felt the protest in his back, his knees, and his entire chest before sitting back down.

He'd give himself a minute to fully wake to try that again. The girls looked over at him when he had tried to get up.

One of them, Amber he believed, whispered into the room, "Ya need help?"

Smiling, he shook his head. "How long have you two been awake?"

"Not long. We've only seen one Sponge Bob," she said as she held up one finger.

He looked at the little girl and then the TV, concluding that this Sponge Bob she was talking about was the name of the cartoon. Groaning, he shifted again and finally got to his feet. If he had to endure cartoons and three kids alone, he was going to need some coffee and aspirin. Putting Nathan down between the twins, he chuckled as Nathan crawled up on Amy's back and wrapped his arms around her.

The girls started giggling and playing with him on the bed as he went into the kitchen. Checking the clock, he saw it was six-thirty in the morning. Fixing the coffee machine, he waited until he saw it start to brew before heading to the bathroom. Once done cleaning himself up and taking two aspirins, he went back into the kitchen.

As he passed the couch, he heard one of the girls ask, "Uncle Bobby, can we get breakfast?"

"Sure. What'd you want?"

Thinking they would ask for cereal, he was surprised when she answered, "Pancakes."

While he filled a cup with coffee, he tried to remember if he even had pancake mix before searching around the cabinets when he thought that Alex could've had some. Sure enough, he found a box of pancake mix along with a bag of chocolate chips.

When the girls saw him with the chocolate chip bag, they beamed at him as they hurried to help him make the mix. Amber grabbed a mixing bowl from the under the cart as Amy climbed up on chair at the table and went to open the box.

"Whoa, hold on," he said as he grabbed the box and looked at it. Reading the instructions, he saw that he needed more than just water to make this stuff. Great, Alex had to make this more difficult.

Getting out the utensils and then the stuff from the refrigerator, he gave each twin a task since they weren't going to allow him to do this on his own. Nathan had even joined in but thankfully he was too busy driving his cars around the floor to care about playing with flour mix.

As he let the pan heat on the stove, he let Amy measure out the chocolate chips into a measuring cup, which meant for her to fill it without spilling them every where. Amber helped by using the whisk to stir everything together in the bowl. After he sprayed the pan with oil he pulled out his ice cream scooper and received some Eames' type looks along with a few giggles.

The twins decided that they had to see what he was doing so they pushed some chairs over to the stove and climbed up to watch. Dishing out three scoops of the batter onto the pan, he heard one of the twins say, "That looks like Mickey Mouse."

"Can you make me one?"

"I'll make all of you one," he told them as they smiled and climbed off the chairs to run back into the living room to watch more of the cartoon.

Nathan stayed with him in the kitchen until he was done cooking. Then a little later, they made him regret ever owning a bottle of syrup.

* * *

Hearing music the moment she woke confused and startled her. Sitting up in bed, Alex noticed two things: one it was eight in the morning and two Bobby wasn't in bed. Groaning, she muttered, "Oh, no", and got up. She had to find her pajamas and quickly dress because when she had gotten in bed last night, Bobby hadn't been as fast asleep as she hoped. Then for five minutes he had made her forgot all about being upset with him. Lets face it, he was drunk and half asleep and she was buzzed and ready for sleep and neither one of them were going to last long. It may have been short but it had been good.

Opening the door she heard the opening chords to _'Baba O'Riley' _by The Who and groaned some more. That was Bobby's hangover song. Rolling her eyes and not knowing what to expect when she went into the living room, she braced herself. What she saw when she stopped in the foyer shocked her before she leaned against the wall and watched with a small on her face.

Bobby was in the middle of the floor on his knees with his electric guitar in hand, unplugged thank God, surrounded by the twins who had hairbrushes in their hands acting as microphones, and Nathan had a wooden spoon which he was banging on a cushion like it was a drum. As Amber played air guitar and Amy the piano on the coffee table, Bobby started singing along with the song.

"Out here in the fields, I fight for my meals, I get my back into my living…I don't need to fight, to prove I'm right, I don't need to be forgiven, yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah…"

The girls started jumping around with the music and Bobby started laughing as Nathan started in dancing with them. Bobby was strumming away like Pete Townshend, making windmills on the guitar, and _that_ made her laugh.

"Don't cry, don't raise your eye, it's only teenage wasteland!"

"Teenage wasteland," the twins started yelling even though it wasn't that part of the song yet and they kept singing it. Loud.

Bobby didn't seem to mind as he kept singing the lyrics, but instead of saying 'Sally take my hand', he sung, "Alex, take my hand. We'll travel south cross land, put out the fires and don't look past my shoulder." He looked over at her, catching her eye as he smiled, and continued singing, "The exodus is here, the happy ones are near, let's get together before we get much older."

"Teenage wasteland!" the twins started dancing around and yelling it at the top of their lungs.

"It's only teenage wasteland," Bobby sung and then said, "Ready, one, two, three…"

Then they all screamed out, "They're all wasted!"

"What's going on out here?" Terry exclaimed as he walked beside her and into the living room. "No one told me there was a concert in here this morning. Are you drumming little man?"

The twins started laughing but kept dancing to the music as Nathan dropped his 'drumstick' and went to his dad laughing.

Going up to Bobby, Alex leaned down and kissed him, saying, "It's too early for windmills."

Bobby laughed as he pulled the guitar off and stood. "It's never too early when you have three kids to entertain," he said before taking hold of her arm as she went to walk away. Bending down, he pulled her into a deep kiss.

When the kiss ended, she pushed him away before going into the kitchen, hearing him yell after her.

"Tease!"

She was still laughing as she went over to the cabinet to take out two cups.

"That man has a screw loose," Liz said as she poured a cup of coffee. "But at least he made coffee."

"I think he's a lot of fun, even if it is eight in the morning," Terry said before telling his wife as he sat Nathan down on the floor, "And he changed Nathan's diaper."

Liz asked in surprise, "He did?" Then she looked to her, saying, "Okay, you can keep him."

Alex rolled her eyes as she pulled two cups down for both her and Bobby. "He's not a dog."

"Who's not a dog?" Bobby asked as he came into the kitchen.

"You," Alex said as she handed him a cup of coffee.

Bobby took a sip as he leaned against the counter and actually seemed to think about that. "Well," he said as he tilted his head down to speak into her ear. "I do like to sniff things." His voice dropped as his hand rubbed at the small of her back. "And you do that thing that makes me growl...and if you rub my tummy, I'm all yours."

"I don't think it's your tummy you want rubbed," she said right back with a laugh.

Smirking, he gave her a kiss before announcing, "I'm taking the first shower."

"Oh," Alex said as she started to follow him out of the kitchen. "I need to get some things out of the bathroom first."

Bobby turned the water for the shower on the moment he got into the bathroom. Then, once she was in, he closed the door, took her by the waist, and pressed her up against the door as he devoured her mouth in a kiss. After she regained the ability to think, she pushed his body away, saying, "Bobby, wait."

"I don't wanna wait," he said before sucking at her neck, drawing a deep moan from her.

Alex started laughing at his pouting and she couldn't put up a fight when he yanked her tank-top off. His lips, teeth, and tongue ignited a fire all the way down her body. Then when she saw him get to his knees, her breath hitched in anticipation as her body started to ache with want. He kissed at her stomach before licking at her bellybutton, a spot that always made her tremble.

Her hand found the doorknob and as she turned the lock on it, her eyes clenched close as she felt him kiss lower. When his tongue slipped inside her, her breathing skidded to a near stop as she gasped, "Oh, Bobby yes."

Clutching his hair in her hands, it was all she could do to not scream out.

* * *

The shower had been wonderful, Alex had been wonderful, the morning so far: wonderful. It had all been going so great and he was starting to feel a little happier and more like he could deal with everything that had happened in the last few days. Then he heard a cell phone ring.

He tossed the wet towel he'd been using to dry his hair and neck on the bed as he went to the dresser to grab his phone. The ringing cell wasn't his, or at least wasn't the one he bought. It was the cell Garrison had given him. At realizing who was calling him at nine o'clock on Sunday, he felt his heart jump in his chest as he flipped it open. "Goren," he answered.

"I'm not waking you up, am I?" Garrison asked with an impatience in his voice. The IA officer sounded like he was moving fast wherever he was.

""No. What's going on?"

"We need to talk. How 'bout lunch, say…one?"

Like he could say no. Sighing, he asked, "Where?"

"Same place as last time."

"Okay, is, uh…Will Logan be there?" Bobby asked as he looked down the hallway as he saw Alex chasing Nathan towards the bedroom.

"He can be."

"I'll call him and let him know," he told Garrison before hanging up just as Nathan crashed into his legs and fell backwards on his butt. Chuckling, he bent down and picked the little boy up as Alex stopped in front of him.

"Oh, no, I know that look. You're injured, why are you on call?"

Shaking his head, he told her, "I'm not. That was my IA contact. We have a meeting this afternoon. It's probably just a debriefing. Or a pre-debriefing to the actual debriefing."

Alex sighed as she observed him. He felt exhausted because he was and he was certain she was thinking the same thing. That he shouldn't be going anywhere today, not after yesterday, or the day before. That he needed time to unwind and relax. Instead of saying any of that, she only nodded. "Okay. Is Logan going to be there?"

"Yeah, but I've got to call him first," he answered as he carried Nathan with him all the way into the kitchen.

Terry was sitting at the table eating breakfast along with Liz. And when he saw them, he smiled, "So that's where he ran off to. He had to find his 'bop'."

Alex chuckled as she retook her seat at the table where she had been eating. They had decided on something a little more substantial than pancakes. Picking up a piece of bacon, Bobby chewed on it as he refilled his cup with more coffee, which proved difficult since Nathan wasn't ready to let him go just yet.

Sitting down next to Alex, Nathan finally released his neck as he reached out to Alex who took him from his lap. Turning to Terry, he said, "Sorry. I don't get this kid's connection to me."

"You're serious?" Alex asked as she gave Nathan a piece of scrambled egg. "Bobby, you were with me when I was carrying him. He heard your voice every single day, felt your presence…You read to him for God's sake."

"Yeah, but…" he trailed off as he had nothing to say to that. "You're trying to tell me that we have a parental connection to him?" he asked confused, because he really was. That didn't really make sense to him because he wasn't the child's father.

Alex shrugged a little, saying, "Could be. I have a special bond with him because I carried him for nine months."

"You have the same special bond too, Bobby," Terry filled in as he took a drink of his coffee. "Which brings us back around to what I was going to ask Alex last night before she decked you." He looked to his wife who nodded for him to go on. Liz seemed apprehensive and Bobby didn't know why until he heard Terry say, "We were wondering if you two would consider being legal guardians to Nathan if something were to happen to us."

"Terry," Alex said at the same moment he asked, "What?"

Looking at Alex, she looked to him and he could tell that she was excited. He was confused, and a little more than hesitant. "I mean…You want me? I understand Alex, but-"

"I know it's a lot to ask seeing how you two aren't even married or anything, but we were talking about it and Alex is the rightful caretaker to Nate if something were to happen. And, with that special bond you have," Terry said to him, "and that you and Alex are together."

"What if we were to break-up?" he asked before he caught himself. "Not that I'm planning on that happening anytime soon, but it's a good question."

"And one we talked about," Terry said as he sighed in annoyance at his questioning. "We didn't just decide this on a whim. Even if you two were to break-up, Alex still has the right to be his guardian."

"Bobby," Liz finally spoke. "We all know that even if Alex kicks your ass to the curb, you're not going anywhere. You'll both still be friends and if she needs your help, you'll be there."

Bobby sat back in the chair as he thought about what Alex's sister had said. It shocked him that Liz had such faith in him to not bail if he and Alex were to break-up. Because, unbeknown to Liz or Terry, they had broken up for two months. During those two months they hadn't necessary acted as friends, but they had remained connected to one another in the sense that if she had called, or he had called, and they needed each other they would have been there.

Rubbing his head, he let out a breath as he looked to Alex for her guidance. This was a huge thing for them. God forbid anything ever happening to Terry or Liz but if it did, that meant they had the responsibility of raising their child. It meant commitment, long-term, on both sides of their relationship.

Alex was willing. Of course she would be, Nathan wasn't only her nephew but the boy she gave birth to. Either way, Nathan was hers. It was left up to him and he had a decision to make. A very important decision that could change everything.

He felt a tapping on his arm and when he looked over, he saw Nathan tapping his forearm with his hand. Giggling, the boy sat back in his aunt's lap while saying, "Bop, bop." Then he turned to Alex and pushed her cheeks with his hands before giving her a kiss. It was like Nathan understood what they were talking about.

Hell, and it wasn't like he could let the kid down or anything. Looking from Alex to Liz, and then back to Terry, he said, "Yeah, okay."

"You're sure?" Terry asked. "I don't want you to rush this decision. You can take your time-"

"No, it's…" Bobby tried to get something out of his still confused and troubled mind. "I don't know what to say." Which was the truth. "I'm, _honored_ that you asked." And terrified, but he wasn't about to say that. "Just, uh…don't plan on doing anything stupid anytime soon."

At that, Terry laughed. "Don't worry, we're not."

Catching Alex's eyes, he saw her surprise but most of all the love she held for him. It made him smile as he went back to drinking his coffee.

* * *

Garrison was running late. Looking at his watch for the fifth time since getting at the restaurant, Bobby grew more worried and slightly impatient. However, Garrison wasn't the only one late. Logan had yet to arrive as well.

A young woman of Mediterranean decent refilled his glass of water and asked him again if he would like to order.

Not being in the mood to eat, and not wanting to keep drinking free water, he answered, "Uh, yeah, some coffee, thanks," before returning his attention to the door.

Shifting in his seat, he picked up the glass and sipped on the water while he debated whether to stay or not. They were both half an hour overdue for the meeting and neither one had answered their phones when he had tried calling.

It wasn't long before the woman returned with his coffee and creamer. She gave him a smile and asked, "Still not ready to order?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I'm waiting."

"Well, if he's not going to order anything I will."

Looking around the woman, he saw Logan coming up to the table. As he slipped into the booth across from him, Bobby said, "What took you so long?"

Mike gave him a look before turning to the woman. "I'll have coke to start, and whatever appetizer you got."

"We have many choices."

"Surprise me. I'm so hungry I could eat a pony."

Not missing a beat, the woman told Mike, "We're all out of pony."

Chuckling, Mike watched the woman walk away. Turning to him, he said, "Think she'll give me a chance in hell?"

"In hell, sure," he said back, getting a smirk from Mike. Leaning on the table, he asked again, "What took you so long?"

"Garrison didn't call you?"

Bobby pulled out his phone as he said, "I didn't receive…" Checking his phone again, he saw he had a voicemail. A voicemail that wasn't there a few minutes ago. Moving his phone up from his lap, he saw the connection bars on the cell disappear. Moving it back down to his lap, the connection was reestablished. "I'm getting bad connection," he mumbled in irritation. "I've been waiting for half an hour," he told him as he re-pocketed the cell phone.

"I thought he got a hold of you," Mike apologized as he picked up the menu and looked it over.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Mike glanced at him before looking back at the menu. "I was on the phone with Garrison and we were kind-of busy having a discussion."

His patience was slipping as he stared at Mike, waiting for more information.

Once Mike had settled on what he wanted to eat, he sat the menu down then shifted so he leaned against the side of the booth. Smiling over at him, he said, "You can't stand it can you? Me knowing something you don't."

Bobby sighed and rubbed his head. He wasn't in the mood for Logan today, especially the Mike Logan who was good at irritating him just for the sake of doing it. He was acting like his brother. "Mike…"

"Can we wait until I at least get my drink?"

And so he waited until Mike's drink was placed in front of him, and until after he ordered a meal, before asking, "Well, what'd Garrison have to say?"

Mike took a sip of the coke before telling him, "Okay, here's what happened. On my way here, after I talked to you, I got a call from Garrison because I guess your phone's been having problems all day. He told me he couldn't make it because he got called in by the Chief and the Commissioner about this whole thing. That meeting was supposed to take place tomorrow, but something came up. Any who…" he sat up in the booth and leaned across the table. Dropping his voice, he told him, "He heard about what Jackson wants to do about Travis."

That didn't make sense to him because he had no idea what Jackson wanted to do about Travis. Silently telling Logan as much, Bobby waited for the proverbial shoe to drop.

"He wants to kill him."

Not thinking, he heard himself say, "He'll have to get in line."

Mike didn't seem surprised to hear him say that as he gave a slight nod. "Word is it's going down tonight. That's why he wanted to talk to you. He wants to know if it's possible for you to go with them."

"On a hit?" he asked incredulously. Bobby shook his head as he rubbed at his jaw as it tensed from the amount of anger he felt for Detective Travis. "That's not going to happen. I don't see them trusting me enough-"

"This isn't about trust. It's about what you deserve," Mike emphasized.

"What I deserve?"

"You deserve to be there; you deserve a sense of closure. You deserve your revenge."

That got him thinking as he sipped on the coffee and stared at the table. Logan could be right, it wasn't about trust at this point. He bet he could get Jackson to let him tag along if he talked him into it with being something that was owed to him. Travis had been the reason he had been jumped by a group of cops. Travis had given Jules the keys to the truck that had been used against Alex and Copeland. If anyone deserved to kill Travis, it was him.

Closing his eyes, he felt the fear rise up in him because he did feel that desire for revenge. However, he couldn't let himself think that way. Shaking his head, he stared up at Mike as he told him, "You know, Mike, I would've thought that a while ago, before I got sent here to Staten Island. But, I've been down this road of temptation before. I've already seen the kind of darkness that can consume me by thoughts of revenge…and it was probably the darkest moment of my life and I vowed to never go back to that place ever again."

Mike sighed and sat back in the booth. Stirring the straw around in the glass, he said, "This isn't about what kind of man you are, or what makes you that man, Bobby. This is about the job. You can debate about the moral ramifications after-"

"If it has to do with what I deserve, or think I deserve, then it's not just about the job. That's making it personal."

"Then don't make it personal," Mike shot back at him. "We're not talking about taking his life, we're talking about saving it. Or do you not care?"

Working his jaw, he knew Mike was just trying to get under his skin to force him into action. And damn it if it wasn't working. Logan really had a way with words when he wanted to make an impact. "What'd you want, Logan? Huh? For me to run out and prove to you, to me, and to everyone else that I can take a hit and not let it cloud my judgment? To prove to them exactly what it means to be a good, honest cop?"

"No, I want you to go out there and show them how a cop working for the rat squad gets the job done," he sternly told him. Then, Mike softly asked, "You're afraid, aren't you? You think if you're put in that situation that you might not hold up your end of the deal. That you'll let them shoot him."

He stared at him for a long moment, trying to get his thoughts and emotions under control as he silently shook. He was unnerved by the fact that Mike was right. He was afraid because he wasn't sure if he would stop them from pulling the trigger.

Mike leaned back across the table and told him, "Don't think for a moment that I don't understand. You hate him and reasonability so. He hurt you, the woman you love, her partner…He's a corrupt cop and you despise the man. Good for you. You have ethics, dignity and honor, and all that shit that makes you worth a damn when you hold up that badge of yours, but while you're mulling over your vow to yourself just remember what you've told me."

"What I've told you?"

"Yeah, genius. You told me once that the reason you can do this, and not just the cop work but the profiling as well, is because you know and accept your vices as well as your virtues. That in order to recognize the evil in other men that you have to recognize the evil within yourself. Every man is tempted at some point in his life, but it's how he deals with that temptation that makes him the man that he is. You said all that, Bobby. So I know you know that the only way to defeat your temptations is by facing them. You have to face Travis and the hate you have for him and then instead of killing him, save him."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he thought all that over. He had said that even though at the moment he couldn't remember when or why. Probably during a long stakeout night when they were just talking about nothing important…when conversation about the football season dried up.

"Come on, Bobby. There's enough blood in the water…It needs to end now. You want to get all of them on murder, don't you? Catching them in the middle of a hit is the best way. I know it, you know it."

Holding his hand up, he stopped Logan's plea. "Just stop, Logan. Okay, that's enough…Just," he sighed and sat back in the booth. His head hurt, but it felt like his soul was being dug out of his chest. "If Jackson says okay…I'll do it, but as long as you're my back up."

Mike nodded with a smile. "I'm your partner, aren't I? Where you go, I go."

TBC…


	38. Who's the traitor now?

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews, appreciate it!

Enjoy

* * *

As they left the restaurant, he stopped Logan as he spun around on him. Something had been bothering him about this whole thing and he finally realized what it was. "Why would the Commissioner and the Chief want to meet on a holiday weekend? Even if something came up for Monday, wouldn't they reschedule for later in the work week?"

"All he said was that something came up and it couldn't wait. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I do, and that's why I know that if the Commissioner couldn't make a meeting on Monday he'll reschedule for later in the week, not on a holiday Sunday," he countered as he looked around the street as he zipped up his coat. Since it was Sunday, and he wasn't on duty, he was casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a thick flannel long-sleeved shirt. "And how did Garrison know about the hit going out on Travis?"

Mike shrugged as he went to move away from him. "I figured with all the commotion going around for the past couple of days a little birdie probably told him."

"Maybe, but who and why?" he asked as Mike started for his car that was parked down the street.

"Does it matter?"

Bobby got in front of Mike again and stopped him. "It matters to me. There's something going on and I want to know what it is."

Mike sighed in frustration as he pulled out his gloves and slipped them on. "And I'm guessing you want to find out before tonight?"

Smiling slightly, he slapped Mike on the shoulder as he said, "And I need you to be the one to find out since I'm not supposed to be at the department."

Mike looked annoyed but he didn't say no. Instead, he asked, "What're you going to do?"

He had stepped off the curb to cross the street when Logan asked that. Calling over his shoulder, he said, "What'd you think? I've got to convince a cop into taking me along."

As before, he had parked his car behind the bar across the street but instead of walking back through the building, he rounded the corner and headed down the alley side street to the back parking lot. Being hyper-vigilant, he kept glancing over his shoulder and looking along the buildings around him. He knew his paranoia was justifiable with everything that had happened. Along with his suspicion that something was going on, that he wasn't being told the whole truth, he was struck with the absurd thought that he couldn't even trust Logan.

Shaking his head of that thought, he crossed the parking lot to his car as he pulled out his keys. Keeping aware of his surroundings, he used the key to unlock the door. As he opened the door to get in, he heard the backdoor to the building open. Jerking his head around, he watched as two men exited the building and headed for another car that was parking on the opposite side of the lot.

Breathing out, he slid into the driver seat and started the engine. He didn't' know whether to be amused or grateful for his paranoia; it felt like he was wound so tight that he was going to blow. Sure he had good reasons to be on high alert, but to jump at every sound or person was irrational and he felt slightly embarrassed by this behavior.

His feeling of unease hadn't suddenly happened either. He'd felt slightly off and uncomfortable for some time now, like he wasn't safe anymore. Conducting checks around his apartment every night, questioning his partner's loyalty and trust, and now with checking up on Garrison.

Running his hand over his head as he waited at a red light, Bobby wondered if maybe he was starting to lose it. If he was over-thinking, overreacting, and trying to see dishonesty and betrayal where there wasn't any. But really, who could blame him with the week he had. No, with the month he had. Working for Internal Affairs and forming alliances with corrupt cops, being beaten by good cops, it was no wonder he thought he could no longer trust anyone.

He had promised himself that he wouldn't let this happen. That he wouldn't let himself slip into this dark, corrupt world. Even though he hadn't exactly done that, he was letting it get to him. He was questioning friendships, his partnership, colleagues, and even the people he had entrust himself with the operation.

Not everyone was a traitor, he knew that, but at the moment he suspected everyone of being just that: a traitor. He realized he was waiting for the next betrayal; for the next traitor to reveal themselves. Garrison could have been having a meeting with the higher-ups about everything that happened the last few days. Or it could have been about something else entirely.

It was entirely irrational, but he couldn't shake the fact that his gut was telling him something was wrong.

Arriving at the intersection the Internal Affairs office was located, he knew immediately that Garrison wasn't there. The building was close, parking lot empty, and not a single light was on inside. It was closed for the holiday weekend.

That left one other option for the meeting and he knew for a fact that One Police Plaza would be open; it never closed. There was always some cop working when everyone else was at home enjoying their holiday. Starting toward the interstate, he pulled out his cell phone and decided to check the voicemail Garrison had left him.

Listening to the man talking, he picked up on a few things. Garrison still sounded like he was in a hurry, either moving fast or he highly impatient, nervous or excited about something. He didn't know the man well enough to know how he sounded in a particular state of mind, but he didn't sound calm. Nothing Garrison said in the voicemail clued him onto anything; it was basically a recap of what Logan told him about having to meet with the brass.

Closing his phone, he looked out across the bay as he hit the bridge. The sky was growing darker with an approaching storm front. That meant more snow and the temperature was already dropping a degrees an hour. By tonight it was going to be freezing.

Getting it straight in his head as to what he was going to tell Jackson, he took a breath and opened the phone. Putting the phone to his ear as he listened to it ring, he realized that he was planning for something that might not even happen. Jackson could tell him no.

As soon as Jackson answered, his well-thought out plea went out the window because he realized what he had to do. The only way to get Jackson to bring him along wasn't to plea with him to come along on a hit that he shouldn't have known about.

He didn't know why he felt so nervous, or even unsure of himself as he finally spoke, but he did because a man like him wasn't supposed to be trying to set up a hit to kill another cop. However, it was the perfect tactic because it released Jackson and Rivers from responsibility. They could always say that it was him who set up the hit. That it was him who ordered it and who pulled the trigger.

He wasn't too surprised that by the time he entered Brooklyn that it was a done deal. Bobby tossed to phone on the passenger seat and let out a deep sigh. Tonight he would go with Jackson and Rivers out to the middle of nowhere Staten Island in the pretense of murdering another cop.

While he thought that over, and how he was going to prevent that from actually happening, he followed the interstate around, bypassing the Brooklyn Bridge that would have led him into Manhattan and 1PP, and continued on to Greenpoint.

Stepping through the backdoor, he stomped off the slushy snow from his boots and took in the kitchen. It was empty and the silence was a welcomed relief to the chaotic noise of Alex's relatives. Speaking of Alex, her car was out front but from the silence in the apartment he knew she wasn't home.

On the table, written on a post-it note, he found out the reason why. Alex had left with her family for the day. Pulling out his cell phone as he got a beer from the refrigerator, he pressed the speed dial for her cell.

On the fifth ring, she picked up. "Eames."

Bobby frowned at the greeting; she must not have looked at the caller ID before answering. "Hey."

"Oh, hey, Bobby. Are you home?"

Sitting down on the couch, he answered, "Yes, and I was expecting you to be here when I got back."

"Sorry. I tried calling but your cell went straight to voicemail and I didn't feel like leaving a message. I left a note."

"I read it. So, are you at your sisters, or your parents?"

She was quiet for a moment and he heard her voice speaking to someone else as she excused herself from the room. "Actually, I had them drop me off at the hospital."

He sat up fast, splashing the drink over his hand, "Dammit," he muttered under his breath. "Are you okay?" he asked as he got up and went into the kitchen to grab a hand towel.

"Everything's okay; I'm visiting Harry. His uncle finally got here and I was updating him on what happened."

Bobby rinsed his hand off as he listened, debating on whether or not he wanted to go and join her vigilance over her injured partner. He was waiting on Logan to get back with him on what he found out, if anything. "I can come out there if…I mean, are you staying long?"

She sighed heavily into the phone and he could sense her uncertainty. "I don't know. I feel obligated…He hasn't woken up yet and I keep thinking that if that were me, I would want to see my partner first thing. Once he wakes and finds out he's missing a leg, he's going to need all the support he can get."

"Okay," he said with resignation. Bobby was certain that Alex would stay there at least for a few hours before coming back home. "Um, I'll, uh…There're some things I gotta handle first, then I'll give you a call when I'm on my way."

"Bobby, you don't have to come."

"I know, but I want to. And once you're ready to leave, we'll get dinner." That sounded like as good a plan as any. Then, once dinner was done, he would have to drop her off and then to Staten Island to meet Jackson.

"Thank you," Alex told him in a soft whisper. "So, I'll see you soon."

"Yeah; it'll, uh, it'll probably take me an hour."

They said their good-byes and hung up. Bobby stood at the counter long after he shut his phone, drinking the bottle of beer as he that about Alex. The emotions tempting his heart were confusing him because he knew he had nothing to worry about when it came to her. He shouldn't feel jealous. He shouldn't be worrying why in her note she didn't tell him that she went to the hospital to visit Copeland. He shouldn't have wondered why she didn't feel like leaving him a message, telling him where she was. He shouldn't be thinking that if he hadn't called her he wouldn't have known.

Finishing the beer, he tossed the bottle in the recycling bin under his sink then grabbed his keys.

* * *

It took him a little longer than an hour before he was stepping off the elevator onto the floor where Detective Copeland was recovering. The cops that had been there the night before were all gone and the only cop he saw keeping a watchful eye outside the door was Alex. She was talking to the Assistant Chief of D's, Copeland's uncle, and sipping on a bottle of water.

Easing up to the two, Bobby extended his hand. "Chief," he said as the older man shook it. "I'm Detective-"

"I know who you are, Detective Goren," the Chief gruffly told him.

Bobby gave a nod as he dropped his hand. "Of course, uh…How is he?"

"He briefly woke up not too long ago but passed out again before we could talk. I'm worried but the doctors told me that it's a good thing. Once he wakes for good, he'll be in a lot of pain, both physically and otherwise. He needs all the rest he can get."

He looked to Alex who was standing next to him but her focus was in the room where her partner laid asleep. Bobby didn't know what else to say to the man, and it seemed that the chief knew that as he turned and headed back into the hospital room. Once they were left alone in the hall, he pulled Alex to him, keeping in mind her injured arm, and held her tight.

She relaxed immediately in his arms but he still felt the tension that had built knot his shoulders and clench his jaw. Looking up at him, she asked, "You okay?"

Bobby felt himself shrug in reply as he looked around the empty corridor. "This place have any good coffee?"

"I wouldn't know; I've been drinking this bottle of water since I got here."

Pulling her with him, he started for the elevator. She didn't ask where they were going or why, Alex let him guild her willing through the hospital until they were in the cafeteria. He got himself a cup of coffee and her a hot cup of herbal tea.

Alex took a small table by the windows that looked out into the halls of hospital and smiled when he sat the cup in front of her. "Smells delicious; thank you."

They sat in silence for a while as he rubbed at his pounding head; he was trying to decide on what to tell her, if anything, about what he was going to do tonight. Normally, if they had been partners, she would have known and he wouldn't have to go through this battle within his soul. He wouldn't have any fear of her, but since she wasn't his partner he was struggling.

Glancing up at Alex, he saw her patiently waiting for him to speak. He smiled slightly as he shifted in his seat and tilted his head. That look was one he loved because it was so familiar. He couldn't remember how many times at work he would look at her and see her just waiting for him to say something. She never interrupted his thinking, well, not unless it was because a call came in or new information was discovered.

"How come you didn't tell me in the note that you were coming here?"

Alex raised her eyes at him in surprise. Sitting the tea down to stir around the tea bag, she told him, "I hadn't planned on it."

"You could've told me."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she said, "I was going to tell you."

"Before you came yo-, you couldn't let me know where you were," he stressed as he locked eyes with her. He was suddenly on the defensive and he had no idea why.

That was until she sighed and shook her head at him. "Not this again," she breathed out as she rubbed her forehead. Eyeing him, she said, "You're jealous."

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are."

Holding his hand up to stop the tirade he knew was coming, he said, "I know that there's nothing going on, or going to happen, between you and Copeland."

Alex leaned across the table as she quietly, yet sternly, replied, "I know. It's not that idea that's making you jealous, it's the time, my time, that I'm giving to him that's making you jealous. You're jealous for the simple fact that I'm concerning him and his feelings over yours."

"I-" he nearly choked on his next words at the sudden realization that she was right. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes in shame and fear. Shame for even having feelings of jealousy, and fear of Alex knowing him too damn well. "How'd you know that…that I was feeling that way?" he asked as he needed to know how she knew that about him.

"I've seen you this way before when I was pregnant."

His head snapped up at that. Alex was staring right at him but her anger, and hostility were gone. She appeared understanding, open, even loving as she gave him a soft smile.

"I also remembered the stories I heard about your behavior at work during that time. How you could actually be jealous of the time I was devoting to my pregnancy, to the baby inside me," she shook her head at him. "It was troubling, but I thought we were beyond that."

"We are," he weakly told her; he didn't even hear the truth in those words. However, he did hear his own desperation.

"Are we? Bobby, you're upset because I didn't tell you I came here to visit my injured partner."

Shifting around in on the chair, he looked around the café, around the halls, anywhere but her as he felt the impact of that.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm not trying to attack you. It's not like I've never been jealous before myself."

"Yeah, when were you ever jealous of me?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about Nicole, or Nelda."

Bobby stared hard at her for a long moment before leaning over the table. "Nicole is a sociopath, and Nelda's-"

"I know you would have never done anything with either or them, but how'd you think it made me feel hearing you tell Nicole things that you have never told me, or seeing how you let her get to you. Bobby, you let her call you on your phone. And Nelda..." she breathed out. "I know that you were playing her after you thought she might've been the killer, but before then that was no act. I knew you liked her when you stood up when she walked into that office the first time we met her. That clearly told me, and everyone else in that room, that you where taken by her."

This wasn't going the way he had thought, or wanted it to go. They had gotten off track of what he wanted to talk to her about and instead of telling her about tonight he was talking about _them,_ their relationship and their jealousy. Feeling like he was seconds away from snapping at her or walking away, he breathed out and covered his head with his hands. "I apologized for that months ago."

"I know, and I brought that back up to let you know that I understand your feelings, but they're misguided. I'm not interested in Harry one way or the other."

Bobby nodded into his hands as he pushed down the guilt he still felt from those feelings he had many months ago. Steadying his voice, he honestly told her, and not knowing why, "I took the lock off the study."

Silence drifted between the two of them until he gathered the nerve to look at her. He twisted his restless hands together and placed them against his mouth as he waited for her reply.

"Why?" she asked.

Again, he shrugged because he didn't know. When he had done it he felt conflicted, like he making his home totally accessible…vulnerable.

"Bobby, I know you," Alex softly told him as she leveled him again with her eyes. "I think the reason you put that lock on your study to begin with was because you needed to have a lock on something."

"Alex…"

"Let me finish." Alex took a breath and looked down, away from him before she continued. "I know that this is hard for you. You've been alone, living alone for practically your entire adult life and you've told me enough of your childhood to where I know that you were alone then too. And now I'm living with you. It's overwhelming and you feel like you need something that's yours. Your whole apartment used to be yours. It was your sanctuary. The one place you could go and feel safe. And don't think that I didn't noticed your new habit of getting up in the middle of the night to check your locks and windows. You never did that before."

"I want to make sure your safe."

"Maybe," she said with a nod. It was to reassure him that maybe that wasn't a lie, because when she continued, she told him, "But you're doing it mostly to make sure you're safe because you no longer feel that way. I threw everything off."

"You didn't-"

"So," she continued like he hadn't just tried to cut her off again, "you chose the study to be yours. The one room where you, and only you, can go to have privacy. To feel safe."

They were silent again as he processed all that she had told him. He hadn't thought of it that way because he hardly ever took the time to analysis his actions. Yeah, he felt things and thoughts things, but he never dug too deep or dived too far into his depths to understand his 'why'. He just did. He acted. Giving a nod, he acknowledged, "You're right. I do feel unsafe…and you being there, it's uh…it's taking some getting used to." After a moments consideration, he asked, "What'd you want me to do?"

She sighed at that, like the question frustrated her, before answering, "Keep the study, but you can leave the lock off. I'll stay out if that's what you want. Just tell me that you need your space and I'll respect that."

That sounded nearly too good to be true. There weren't too many people willing to compromise with him, and he had no experience of a woman ever doing that for him in a relationship. No one except for her. "You won't try to come in like you did the other morning?"

"The other morning I had no idea what was going on. I do now, so no, I won't."

"I-I, uh…" Bobby leaned back in his chair as he struggled with the warring thoughts and emotions bursting through his head. "I don't want you to take it personally or-or, uh, be offended, thinking that I'm trying t-to…to get away from you. I enjoy you being there," he honestly told her. "I love coming home to you."

She placed her hand on his as he felt his anxiousness rise. Trying to reassure him, she said, "I would never think-"

"What'd you think when I put it on there?"

"At first I thought it was because you didn't trust me. Then you told me it was because my nephew and nieces were coming over," she gave him a look, a disappointed look, as she continued, "I believed you."

Breathing out deeply, he shook his head as he felt the irritation at his own insecurities grip his chest. She trusted him as much as he did trust her. There trust was so deep it was nearly blinding for the both of them. Yet his insecurities still remained because trust could be easily broken, especially when you loved someone. He had broken her trust in him before, and now he was waiting for her to do it right back to him. That seemed to be the way his world worked. He was always waiting for the betrayal, even from those he truly trusted and relied on.

"I didn't realize it was a lie until you showed up drunk that night." The bitter disappointment in her voice when she said that yanked on his heart so hard his chest clenched as a lump filled his throat. "You can trust me, Bobby. You can always come and talk to me. I'll listen and I won't judge, or at least I'll try not to."

Gathering his words together in his head and finding his voice, he cleared his throat, telling her, "You've got a point. From now on, I'll come to you."

"You mean it? You'll actually confide in me?"

Taking his pained eyes off the table, he nodded his answer because he could no longer speak. If he did, it would be a lie and he knew it. He was telling her what she wanted to hear but not what he could actually give her. She would forgive him, hopefully.

Alex still looked skeptical, knowing him so well and everything, and asked just as skeptically, "Is that a promise?"

Nodding still, he lied again, "Yeah."

The look remained as she finished off the tea and threw the cup away. As they left the café, she asked, "Would if be okay if we had dinner at Liz's tonight?"

Actually, he thought as they waited for the elevator, that would be perfect since he had to go out to Staten Island anyway. "Sure, and you can stay over if you want."

"Why would I want to do that?"

That was when he told her that he had to help Logan out on something tonight at work. Her look was worried yet trusting; she believed him.

* * *

The road was dark, desolate, and exactly what he suspected. What he hadn't suspected was them denying Logan the opportunity to come with him. It was just him or none of them. Bobby didn't like leaving his backup behind but it was that or miss this chance. He took the chance, gave Logan a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and then got into the front passenger seat of the car.

The seat wasn't his preferred spot. He had been to enough crime scenes, and watched too many mafia movies to know that it gave the people in the backseats the perfect opportunity to kill him. Sitting sideways in the seat, with his back to the door, he was able to keep his eyes on everyone.

Jackson was the driver, Rivers was in the back along with Travis who looked worse than he did. Travis nose was broken, blood had gushed down his mouth and chin onto his dress shirt, his face was battered and bruised, and his left eye was starting to swell. That had all happened on the drive from where they had ambushed Travis at a corner liquor store to where they were now on a dark winding road in the middle of Staten Island.

He had to admit that he didn't feel too bad for the rough treatment of the homicide detective. Travis had caused him so much pain he was ashamed to admit the satisfaction he felt at seeing Jackson bust the man's nose. And that had been what he had done, just watch.

He was there as an observer until he had to intervene. The car slowed and Bobby looked out the window to see that they were turning onto another street. _Arthur Kill Road…_Bobby momentarily smirked at the irony of it before a thought hit his head. A realization that stilled his breathing and sent him into action.

The first thing he did was act like he felt a buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his cell phone, he saw the two connection bars he had and hoped it was enough. Acting like he had received a text, he opened his contacts and found Logan's cell number. Then, he asked Jackson, "Uh, this isn't going to be too long is it?"

Jackson shot him a look but answered anyway, "I don't know, man. It might. Why?"

Shaking his head, he mumbled something about Alex as he sent a short, two letter message to Logan. "Just wandering. I was just…oh, fuck, I didn't-" he cut himself off as he found Alex's contact number and sent her another short message.

_DON'T WAIT UP…RG_

Flipping his phone shut after he sent it, he pocketed the phone and looked back at Travis and smiled slightly.

"Better wipe that smug look off your ugly mug, Goren. Once they off me, you're next."

Bobby didn't doubt that for a minute. Turning to Rivers, he playfully mouthed, "Ugly?"

River didn't even give him a smile.

* * *

Logan returned from refilling his cup with more coffee for the third time when his phone indicated that he received a text. Gripping as he sat the cup down, he flipped his cell open as he saw the message from Goren.

"What the…?" he said as he sat down and tried to understand why his partner sent him a text of his initials.

_RG…_Why would Goren send him a text of that? Logan shook his head and tossed the phone on desk as he tried to figure it out.

He had told Goren that when he got to where he was going to send him a text, telling him where they were. It had to mean something. He wouldn't just send an empty text. Picking up his phone again, he checked all the other texts from Goren and not one of them ended with a signature of his initials.

Something was going on, he knew it. Then it hit him. 'RG' weren't Goren's initials. They were for someone else.

Logan eyed the phone and then sighed as he looked over to Goren's desk, and then his desk and their files as he tried to make the connection. It was obviously someone Goren knew that he would respond to, that he would know…

He spotted the file folder sticking out from the bottom of several others. Pulling it out, he flipped it open and reread the pages, double checking his facts, and then bolted for the door.

He knew where they were taking Travis and how they were planning on killing him.

* * *

"You said you were going to tell me about what happened with the Connelly's."

"I told you Sullivan didn't kill them."

"I know. It made no sense for Greg Connelly to try and call him if he was there."

"And, what else y'know?"

Bobby didn't know if he should tell them everything, but at the moment he saw no harm. It wasn't like they could do anything about it now. "I know that Officer Gabriele and his partner, Felton, staged the scene. What I don't know is who actually pulled the trigger and why."

Jackson nodded as he kept his eyes on Travis as he stumbled through the snow as they ventured deeper into a densely wooded area off the road. "The hit was put in place by the Connelly's middle man."

Bobby kept his eyes on Rivers who was pushing Travis along as he asked, "The person who needed millions of dollars laundered through his casino?"

Jackson smiled a little as he answered, "It wasn't just one person. It was multiple, but we all gave our money to one person and he became the middle man. Connelly never knew who exactly he was cleaning money for. If he was ever caught, we all would be safe."

Bobby turned to him in surprise. All this time they were going on the assumption that it had been one guy. Turned out it was all of them. "Who'd you give your money to? Sullivan?"

"No, no, not him. Sully would have turned on us in a second if he were caught. C'mon, you're an intelligent guy. Who would you suspect of having millions of dollars in dirty money, and would be beneficial for Connelly to be in bed with?"

He could only think of one person. Bobby shook his head that he didn't make the connection before, but how could he when everything was so messed up. "Savoie."

"Bingo."

"Wait, so Savoie put out the hit on Connelly and his wife? Why?"

"He wanted control of the casino boats. They had a agreement in place over ownership. If something happened to Connelly, Savoie would be owner. With Connelly out of the picture, he became the only man getting a share of what we brought to him to clean. Plus, he found out Connelly was scamming him, and us, by taking more than what was owed for his services."

"And you agreed to do it because why not? With Connelly out of the picture…you get half instead of a third. You put your trust into a mob boss?"

"So did you."

Jackson had him there. Bobby nodded a little as they came upon a clearing. Rivers pushed Travis one last time, and doing it so hard it made the detective trip to the snowy hard ground. "And look at where it got me. He doubled crossed us. He ordered his men to take us out."

"You can blame Travis for that. He was in charge of dropping off what we got to Savoie."

Bobby looked back at the cop lying face first in the snow. Rivers turned him over when Travis refused to move. Travis's hands were cuffed in front of him with his own handcuffs. "You told Savoie about the IA investigation, didn't you?"

Travis glared hard at him before looking up at the sky. It wasn't like he could answer him with his mouth gagged with his bloody tie.

"Okay, so I'm guessing that Travis was the one to actually shoot the Connelly's."

Jackson looked over at him as he asked, "How'd you figure that?"

"Because I know it wasn't you or Rivers. You two were in court, solid alibi. Travis said that he was in the department, that Sullivan left early and never came back. That's a lie. Sullivan was in the office, Travis was the one that left early. I remember him leaving the department when I got the call for the Ulrich suicide."

"Okay. Mind telling me how you knew what he told the cops about his whereabouts?"

Bobby heard the hostility as Rivers asked him that. Turning from Jackson, he addressed the younger cop, telling him, "Why wouldn't I know? I worked that case and I actually talk to my girlfriend," he said, taking an unnecessary shot at the detective. "She trusts me with information. Anyway, what I don't get is why you killed Lance."

"Sullivan was going to turn us all in," Rivers spat out in anger. "He said he had a book, a receipt book where he kept everything documented."

"Did you find the book?" Bobby asked even though he already knew the answer. They didn't find the book because he did. It was hidden in the nonexistent cat's litter-box.

"We searched but we couldn't find it. So he either lied or it's in some safety deposit box somewhere."

Bobby stepped away from the detectives as he gave a nod. Looking around the woods, he let out a breath before asking, "So, are we going to do this or what?"

Jackson hesitated and he caught it. That hesitated got his attention and spurred his paranoia as he looked around the clearing more closely. Nothing but trees and snow.

He heard a scuffle and looked in time to see Rivers yanking the tie from Travis's mouth but he kept the cuffs on.

Travis breathed out heavily as he trembled on the ground. He looked terrified, like a man who knew he was seconds away from being killed.

Rivers nodded to Jackson before stepping away.

Jackson pulled his gun and Bobby tensed as he went to open his mouth but then he saw him thrust the gun against his chest. "He's all yours. Make it quick."

Bobby stared at him before looking down at the weapon being pressed against him. Taking it into his hand, he relaxed slightly knowing he would be the one with the gun in his hand. The moment he held it in his left palm, he knew something was wrong. It was too light. Then he thought that maybe it was because the magazine was only holding one or two rounds. Shit, that meant if he had to get into at gun fight, he only had one or two rounds to fight with.

"Well?"

He was broken from his observation by Jackson's question.

"Are you going to take this traitor out or what?"

Looking from him then down at Travis, he pointed the gun.

Jackson swore as he tensed and moved away from him, hands up, because he wasn't pointing the gun at the man on the ground but at him. "Bobby?"

As he went to speak, he noticed something that terrified him more than anything. First, the indicator on the gun that would show him if a round was chamber wasn't sticking out showing red. Meaning that the gun in his hand held no bullets.

The second thing he noticed was that all three men were looking over his shoulder.

The feel of a gun being pressed into the back of his skull froze him. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. A warm breath tickled his ear as the person moved up behind him. He felt their presence before smelling their scent. _Perfume_…and it was familiar.

Of all the people he thought would betray him, would put a gun to his head, she was the last person he would have suspected. For fuck's sake, he never thought to suspect a woman.

Speaking into his ear, he heard her say, "Who's the traitor now?"

TBC…


	39. All it is now is recovery

A/N: I apologize for the formatting error in the last chapter, completely my fault and it's been corrected.

Enjoy!

* * *

It was getting too hard to run as his shoes kept slipping on the snow. Every few steps his legs would snag a fallen branch and he would tumble into a tree or to the frozen ground. His face felt numb as his chest burned from the freezing air that he desperately inhaled as he raced against time to find the road, to find a house, to find anything or anyone that could help him. The visibility was getting denser making it hard for him to see the path that could guild him out of the dark woods that surrounded him.

He had to keep moving, keep going, or else he wasn't going to make it out of there alive. Pounding one foot after the other, he forced his heavy tingling legs to not slow down even though that was what his body wanted him to do. It wanted him to give up. He was feeling physically sick and drained because the gnawing fury of pain that was in his abdomen was excruciating.

_Keep moving. You will not die. Keep moving…_He listened to those words in his head as he stumbled to a stop at the foot of a incline. The hill was steep and from what he could barely see there was no way around it. He had to go up. Taking the death grip off this stomach, he felt the warm stickiness on his hand before he grabbed onto a tree and pulled himself up as he started to climb.

His legs kept sliding out from under him and he would slip to the cold snow as he tried to reach the top of the hill. It took some time as he pulled his tired, sluggish body up the hill using one tree after the other for support. The top of the incline was finally in sight and a small smile grew on his face as he spotted a guardrail. That meant there was a road up ahead. A road meant cars and with cars came help. And right then he needed all the help he could get because he didn't have anything. Not even his cell phone. Everything he had had been stripped from him right before Jackson shoved the gun against his stomach and squeezed the trigger.

_The empty gun was yanked out of his hand by Jackson and handed off to Rivers who tucked it away. _

"_Sorry, Bobby," Jackson was saying to him as he searched him. "We had to be sure."_

_He tensed as he felt Jackson's hand reach into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. _

_Jackson flipped the phone open and checked the messages he had sent earlier. "What's this text to Logan? RG?"_

_Breathing in sharply against the cold air, he released the breath as he told him, "Nothing, an empty message I accidentally sent."_

_Jackson eyed him before doing something else on his phone. "Don't wait up…RG. Huh, your signature's your initials?"_

_He didn't say anything as he let them think what they wanted. The initials of RG to Alex did represent his name, the one to Logan didn't. He just hoped Logan figured it out. If he had sent anything else with that message it would have been a dead give away what he was doing, or what he was trying to inform Logan; the message was vague, but he trusted his partner to realize the meaning of those two letters._

_Jackson tossed the phone to Rivers who pocketed it; then he nodded to the woman behind him as he rounded behind him. He heard movement, felt the barrel of the gun leave his skull but before he could breathe out in relief a shattering explosion of pain lit up his head, sending him stumbling forward to the ground._

His shoes slipped on ice covered pavement as he journeyed down the long dark road in search of help. There was no time to rest or to breathe as he looked down at the blood spreading over the entire front of his blue dress shirt. Blood slowly seeped out of the bullet hole over his hands and through his fingers as he pressed firmly against it trying to stop the flow. Gritting his teeth at the pain, he closed his eyes as he felt the ice cold wind shake his whole body.

Pushing harder into the bullet wound he felt his breathing slowing as his body grew heavy. He felt tired of moving as his body swayed then his legs buckled, sending him stumbling into the guardrail. He doubled over as the pain ignited a fire within his gut, his knees hit the black colored snow at the edge of the road as he muffled a scream.

The pain was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It felt as if a ball of fire was coursing through his entire body, spreading slowly from his gut out. His body was in shock, muscles were constricting, spasming, trying to protect itself which caused him more pain. It probably would have been better if the bullet had gone further in, or completely through his body and out the other side. Nerves would have been damaged, pain receptors cut off, and he would only feel a dull ache and numbness.

One of the most painful places to get shot was the stomach, the gut. It hurt like hell, but it was worse when the bullet didn't go through all the way. Then the pain of it being removed nearly blackened his head it hurt so damn much. He lost consciousness for a few seconds only for the excruciating pain to bring him back.

Slouching against the guardrail, he tried to figure out how to get his body out of the shock it was spiraling into. If he let himself panic then he knew he would most definitely die. His body would stop functioning. He'd heard of cops who died from a flesh wound because they panicked and went into shock. The shock was what killed them; that was why he kept telling himself that he would not die. He couldn't let his mind or body think that being shot meant certain death because it didn't.

He was so lost in his head that it wasn't until he heard the roaring of an engine that he realized a car had gone by. Looking up, he watched as the car suddenly braked, fishtailing the car around as it turned sharply in the road before the tires spun as it headed back toward him.

The crown vic braked hard in front of him and all he could see was the dark doors of the passenger side and the light coming on as the driver got out.

"Bobby!"

It was Logan. Bobby barely moved as he shifted to stand up when he felt arms wrap around him, hauling him to his feet. Leaning against Logan, he immediately knew that he would be okay. The gunshot wound to his gut was superficial, meant to cause the most pain and for the person to bleed to death, but that would take hours. Time was on his side as Logan shoved him into the backseat.

Logan was gone for a moment before he reappeared with a towel. He pried his left hand barely enough away from the wound to maneuver the towel over it before shutting the door and rounding to the driver side.

The car jerked back as Logan gunned the engine back toward civilization as he pressed the towel against the gushing blood. Despite his relief, the pain was suddenly too much not to scream out in aguish. Lying across the backseat, he tried to muffle his screams in the cushion of seat but he knew it failed. It seemed that the heat from the vehicle was thawing out the numbness from being out in the cold air, causing the pain to intensify.

He jerked against the seat, pounded his clenched hand against the door, the back of the seat, the floorboard, in a frantic attempt to physically beat the pain out of his body.

"Bobby," Logan's voice entered his pounding, pain filled mind. "Try to relax, breathe…"

His voice trembled as he gritted out in a near plea, "_It…hurts_."

"I know it hurts, but you have to breathe or you'll hyperventilate."

Kicking at the door as a sharp jolt of pain rippled down from his groin to his foot, he screamed out as he tried to breathe. Then, for some odd reason, his old drill sergeant voice from his boot camp days filled his head, telling him that if he was screaming and complaining then that meant he was breathing.

The guy was a fucking asshole, but he had a point. Shaking against the ravishing chills that was battling against the fury of heat gnawing in his gut, he turned onto his back and continued to kick at the door as he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw closed as tightly as he could and took a sharp, long breath through his nose. Getting it back out through his mouth caused him to convulse in a fit of coughs as tears poured from his clenched eyes.

"Tell me what happened?" Logan asked.

Bobby worked his jaw back-and-forth, trying to get his muscles to loosen, as he fought to get the words out. Everything hurt, even talking.

"Who shot you?"

Forcing the words out, he struggled against the pain as he told Mike, "Jack-Jackson…Ri-Rivers, he…oh, God," he groaned out as he bit hard on his bottom lip while pressing harder into the towel.

"What happened to Travis?"

Bobby tried to focus on Mike's words, to focus on something other than the pain, but it was so hard to push the pain aside. When he did, he was close to drifting into unconsciousness and he had to tell Logan what happened.

"Did they kill him?"

"N-n-no," Bobby's voice trembled as he unclenched his eyes. "Br-_Brenda_-"

"Brenda, the M.E.'s assistant? Bobby, I don't think she can help with this."

Groaning in frustration, his fingers fumbled as he searched his inside jacket pocket. Feeling the long metal of what appeared to be a pen, he pulled it out and held it out toward Mike.

Logan reached back to grab it, asking, "What'd you want me to do? Write down your last will and testament?"

Bobby would have smiled and laughed if he could, but all he could manage was a twist of his lips as he said, "Recorder…asshole."

"You got it recorded?" Logan exclaimed as he looked at the pen more closely. "On a fucking pen!"

Bobby watched as Mike tossed the bloody object into the passenger seat before reaching his hand back again, grabbing desperately at his still hand. He could see Mike's worried, frightened eyes in the rearview mirror looking at him.

"Damn it, Bobby," Logan's voice was etched with fear but it was steady. "Stay with me," he pleaded as he gripped his hand hard.

He stared at their joined hands until his graying, blurry eyes could no longer focus. As his eyes slid close, and all he could see was darkness, he felt a light squeeze against his palm before it dulled into nothingness.

* * *

As she walked through the emergency doors after Logan she couldn't get her mind to focus on anything other than the fact that Bobby was shot. Her hands were shaking and her heart was beating so hard and fast she thought she was going to go into cardiac arrest. Alex tried to steady her breathing as they made their way toward the waiting area outside of the OR on the third floor but it was a losing battle. She hadn't been able to breath right since Logan called her.

_The ringing of her cell phone jarred her awake. She had just laid down after helping to put Nathan to bed and she wasn't in the mood for this. It might be Bobby, she thought, needing her to let him in the house. Flipping the phone open, she didn't take the time to check to see who was calling as she answered, "Eames."_

"_Hey, Eames, it's Logan."_

_She jolted up on the bed at that greeting and then peered at the clock. It was shortly after midnight, and Logan was calling her and not Bobby. "What happened? Where is he?" she fearfully questioned as she hurriedly got up and started to dress._

_Logan was silent for a moment and that tipped her off to something bad happening. Please don't tell me he's dead, she pleaded in her head as she sat down on the bed to pull her jeans up her legs. It was taking forever since she only had the use of one arm. "Mike!"_

"_Where are you," he asked instead._

"_I'm at my sisters, here, on Staten Island."_

"_Good. Where? I'll come get you."_

_She told him the address before asking again, "Mike, what happened?" He's not dead is he? Was what she wanted to ask but feared, dreaded, the answer to that._

"_He's…in bad shape, but hanging in there. I'll tell you the rest when I get there."_

_And with that, they hung up, neither one saying 'bye' or any other meaningless thing. She tossed the phone down and busied herself with getting dressed to keep her mind off the fact that Bobby was in bad shape, but hanging in there. _

_That was when she knew that he'd been shot. It was almost the exact same words she had been told nearly seven years ago._

She was starting to hate hospitals. Looking around the walls, the empty chairs, the disheveled Mike Logan as he paced around the open floor while running his hands through his hair and over his face. The blood stains on his shirt and sleeves that wasn't his but Bobby's. Her stomach gnawed at her as she fought the urge not to cry or breakdown or go homicidal on the next doctor that exited that room but had nothing to tell them expect that there was nothing he or she could tell them as of yet.

Logan had told her that it wasn't a deep wound, but from the bullet being removed to the amount of blood loss…

Alex tuned the rest out as images of Joe lying in a coma entered her mind. This wasn't like that, she had to remind herself. It wasn't.

"You're not looking too good, Eames. Why don't we go and get a cup of coffee or something?"

She tore her eyes away from the doors and stared up at Logan as he held out his hand for her to take. "What if…"

He held up his phone, saying, "The nurse has the number. As soon as she knows something, we know something."

In the state she was in, it felt like she would have agreed to anything. She was so exhausted with worry it was hard to object. Getting up, she watched as Logan told the nurse what they were doing, before leading her down the hall to the elevators.

Neither one of them spoke until they were seated across from each other at a table, sipping on sugar-filled coffees.

When she spoke, it was like she was in a fog. "First Copeland, now Bobby…"

"Life doesn't seem to know when to slow down sometimes."

"I don't want it to slow down, I just want it to stop for a little while."

Logan smirked at her and took a sip of the coffee. "That'll never happen; not with our lives anyway."

"What was Bobby doing, Logan? He didn't tell me anything other than he was working with you on a case."

Logan looked taken back by that as he rubbed at his chin. Then, he huffed out a breath of air as he looked away. "Hum, figures," he mumbled before looking back at her. "It wasn't for me, but for the IA case. One final nail to put in for the corrupt cops. And before you ask, my guess is that they're being picked up and read their rights as we speak. Bobby's one clever son-of-a-bitch. He got the whole thing recorded on a pen. That was…How he thought ahead like that, thought that maybe they would check his cell phone, I'd never know. If that had been me…nothing."

"He must have already suspected that they were going to turn on him, or at least thought that they didn't trust him."

"Yeah," Logan grunted out. "I guess."

They were silent for a few minutes as they both lost themselves in thought.

Alex sipped on the coffee as her thoughts drifted to Bobby and his behavior over the last days, weeks, and she sighed heavily against the rush of emotions that assaulted her. "I feel like the other woman."

Logan looked confused at that but didn't press her for information like Bobby would've. Instead, Mike just waited and sipped on the coffee.

"I mean," she continued after a moments thought to gather herself, "I know how Bobby can be when it comes to the job, it's borderline obsessive."

"You don't share that obsession?"

"I do, or at least to a point. I know when to go home, to take time out for myself and my family. Bobby has trouble with that. When we were partners, it was okay because we both worked late, got there early…He was always there before I was though, even when he didn't have to be, and sometimes he worked later than I did or he went to the library after work to do research."

Logan nodded but still looked confused. "So, how is this different from before? Why do you feel like you're the other woman?"

"Well, before, I had to know where he was and what he was doing. I was his senior partner. He had to come to me so I never felt left behind. I never felt disconnected. And now, he makes it a point to keep me at a distance."

"You gotta understand where he's coming from though," Logan told her. "You aren't his partner anymore, you're his girlfriend."

Alex wanted to roll her eyes at that because that was exactly what Bobby had told her.

Logan saw her irritation and he frowned at her for it. "It sucks, but not letting you in on his side of the job is his way of trying to keep you and it separate. Like you said, before, you two weren't just boyfriend/girlfriend, you were partners. There was no way of keeping your professional lives out of the personal. Now, there's every reason to keep the job out of the relationship."

"I understand that, I do. With Joe.." she stopped herself as she realized that Logan had no idea who Joe was. "He was my husband, a cop. He was killed in the line of duty."

Logan's face darkened as he gave a small nod. "Sorry."

She waved him off before continuing, "Anyway, we kept certain parts of our job secret from one another. It was bad enough that we were both cops but then to both be working the jobs we had, him Narcotics and me Vice…All I wanted was to be able to leave work at work and have our personal lives separate from it all. So we made the effort not to talk about what happened or what we were doing. I wanted more than just the job."

"Joe didn't?"

"No, he did, but it was hard. He would keep things quiet until he got drunk and spilled his guts out, and me, I had to vent sometimes. I found myself getting into fights with him just so I could vent."

Logan laughed at that as he finished off the coffee. "Sounds like a great way to spend a Friday night. Booze, yelling, and venting."

"Yeah, well, we could only do that for so long before we just stopped talking altogether. That's when we realized that something had to be done."

"And what'd you do? Counseling?"

"Nope, we would take weekend vacations, spend time with both our families when we could. You know, barbeques and fishing trips, parties, whatever we could do. Our families understood our need to have something else because we were both from cop families. My dad was our best party-planner because he would have something going on just about every weekend."

"The problem is then that with Bobby, he's all work and no play. That and I can't see Bobby pouring his guts out, even after a whole bottle of good scotch."

Alex smiled and shook her head. "Oh, he plays, but yeah, if it doesn't have to do with work then it can wait. The job always comes first. Most of his hobbies involve learning more about a case or the law in general. If he ever stopped being a cop he could always pass the bar, be a lawyer or something."

She left the other part unanswered because she had been around Bobby after he'd gotten so drunk he'd lost it. And it wasn't his guts that he poured out but his frustration. That man wasn't good at communicating, at opening up and trusting. She sometimes felt that he had no desire to let her know anything. That he would rather keep it all inside, live in a lie, than to address anything.

Logan huffed out a laugh. "I've seen him argue with our ADA a few times and thought he would make one hell of a defense attorney or prosecutor. Give Jack McCoy a run for his money."

Alex hardly heard Logan as her thoughts grew more troubled. "Bobby told me that I'm the one that can't get over the fact that we're no longer partners," she suddenly told Logan. "He called me out on the fact that I never treated Joe the way I treat him, and…" she nodded as she thought about it some more, "he was right."

Logan was quiet for a long moment before saying, "I'm not as good as Bobby with reading between the lines, but I'm going to take a wild guess and say that since your husband was killed while on the job, and you are now in another relationship with a cop…you went all 'protective mode' on Goren."

"That's one way to put it," she muttered under her breath. "I did more than try to protect him, I interfered when I should've stayed out of it. I demanded things that I should've never demanded. I mean, I know what it's like but I also know that I regretted doing that with Joe because it left me completely in the dark as to where he was and what he was doing the night he got shot."

She was so lost in her thoughts that it didn't occur to her until Logan gave her hand a squeeze that she'd been staring into space and chewing on her left thumb. It was a childhood habit she hadn't done since she was a kid; when her dad was late getting home at night. She remembered sitting on the couch, looking out the window, waiting for his car to pull up to the curb outside their apartment in Inwood. That was before the family moved to Queens after Junior was born to a bigger home in order to accommodate everyone.

"Eames, that was a life changer for you. Having that happen, it made you decide to be more open in your relationship with Bobby. It made you not want to keep secrets about the job because it could mean the difference between life and death. But, for him, for Bobby, he never went through that. He never made that decision."

"I think because I was so hard on him, trying to get him to let me in when he didn't want to, I helped him to push me further away," she said as her voice cracked. Taking a breath, Alex looked away from Logan so she could regained her composure.

"It's not your fault," Logan tried to reassure her but it wasn't getting through.

She felt it was her fault and now Bobby was shot and being operated on and she had no idea why or where he had been that night. It was her worst nightmare all over again.

* * *

It was too quiet. The silence startled him as the darkness lifted. His mind was groggy, his eyes blurry and unfocused like they had been in the car. Then it occurred to him that there was no more pain. He was no longer aching and dying, no longer screaming in anguish and trying to get himself to breathe and to stay alive.

Desperation no longer gripped his sense of being and all he was left with was a sense of ease. Of floating in a sea of nothing. No pain, no worry, no troubled thoughts and fear. It all felt okay, like he could sleep for the rest of his life.

Then the beeping broke the silence. Blurred objects came into a sharp focus and there was light streaming in, blinding him and sending a jolt of pain to his head. Groaning, he covered his eyes to block the light.

"Hey...hey! He's awake!"

The voice boomed in his ears and his head felt the vibration as he groaned again in pain. And why was Logan screaming anyway?

"Bobby, can you hear me?"

At hearing Alex's voice, he tried to relax and turn to her. That was mistake. His body seized in fits of rippling aches and pains that sent him right back to that car. He couldn't breathe as he blinding reached for his abdomen and pushed hard. What he felt shook him to his core as he screamed until his throat broke and went raw.

Then someone was holding him down, restricting his hands and legs, and his entire body as a sharp pin-prick stung his shoulder before he a numbness spread through his arm and then over his entire body.

* * *

Alex shook out a breath as Bobby was sedated only after minutes of finally awakening. He had been out for over twelve hours after the surgery, which was normal. His body needed the rest, to reset itself and to heal. Then her eyes caught the blood seeping through his bandages and her breath caught all over again. "He busted his stitches!"

"What the hell happened?" Logan demanded of the doctor who quickly getting the bed ready to move.

The doctor didn't even take a glance over at them as he was solely focused on Bobby. "Like she said, he busted his stitches."

"But why did he freak out like that?"

"He was coming off the morphine. Feeling the pain sent him into a panic…Nurse!"

They wheeled Bobby out of the room and down the hallway so they could re-stitch or suture his wound and all she could do was watch.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, saying, "He can't make this easy can he?"

Logan pulled her to him, giving her a reassuring hug, before heading out into the hall. "I gotta make a phone call."

Alex let him go as she stepped out into the hall but to wait for Bobby's return. She had called her family around nine that morning. Liz was going to come by after Terry got home because he would want to be here. Him and Bobby had gotten close since first meeting in October. Her parents had been there earlier but had to leave a few hours ago, but her dad promised to be back later. There was no doubt in her mind that her mother was cooking something for Bobby for when he woke up.

Captain Williams had been there earlier along with Officer Garrison. She talked to Deakins on the phone and he told her he would try to be by after work but with all the chaos going on around the department over the last few days, he wasn't sure if he would make it today. He reminded her that she was still on medical leave and to not come into work before wishing them both well.

Bobby's cell phone was missing so she didn't have his brother's phone number to call him. She didn't know the extent of their relationship, whether Frank would come visit his brother or not, but she thought she could make the effort to at least let him know. The same went for his mother. She had yet to contact Carmel Ridge, but thought that maybe that was for the best. His mother didn't need the added stress of worrying about Bobby. It wasn't like he was in critical condition or worse. In a few days, he would be out of the hospital and they would be home.

She hadn't realized that she had been standing, leaning against the wall lost in her worry and fears until Logan appeared beside her. He nudged her shoulder and offered a tall coffee from the café on the first floor. Accepting the cup, and offering her thanks, she watched Bobby's partner walk across the hall and lean against the wall opposite her.

Giving her a smile, Mike said, "You looked like you could use that."

Alex tried for a soft chuckle, but all that she managed was a half-hearted smile. She was tired, having been up since Logan had called her. That remembered her that he had left to make a phone call. Curious as to who he had to call and why, she asked, "Any news?"

Logan looked away, down the hall, as he sighed heavily. "They found Jackson and Rivers, they've been brought in on pretenses of Stapleton's murder. Travis is missing, but there's an APB out on him, also with the pretense for questioning about Stapleton. The surprise fourth party, Brenda, the M.E.'s assistant, she hasn't been brought in yet. Garrison, he's waiting on everything to get sorted out first, all the warrants signed, sealed, and approved before they do a whole sweep of everyone involved. Get everyone at once so hopefully no one can tip the others off."

Alex nodded as she listened. She didn't know how many were involved, but she was certain that Bobby got as many as he could. Speaking of Bobby, she saw the nurse wheeling the bed that he was still strapped down to around the corner.

Once he was settled back in the room, and hooked up to the monitors and the IV that delivered the pain medication reinserted into his hand, she felt herself breathe easier. Pulling a chair over to the bed, she sat down and reached out to take a hold of his hand. It felt warm and pulsing with life.

This wasn't like Joe, she had to remind herself again. Bobby had woken up, and he would be okay. She just had to wait until he woke again; wait for him to gain some strength, and for the doctors to clear him and then he could leave. They could go home.

Logan said something about getting home to get cleaned up and shower and sleep. He gave he a slight squeeze on her shoulder as he walked by. "He's through the worst of it. All it is now is recovery."

Smiling at his gesture, and because she knew he was right, Alex told him, "Thanks, Logan. I'll call if…"

"There'll be no need. The next phone call I expect is to get a lift home. I doubt neither one of you will be able to drive."

"I'm sure we'll get a lot of offers for that particular job in the coming hours, days. Don't worry about it. Just focus on getting this whole messed cleaned up so Bobby can go back to work without having to deal with the fallout."

Logan's features turned serious, and grim, as she said that. Looking back at Bobby, he said, "I'll do my best." Then with that, he headed for the door.

Before he got there, she suddenly asked, "R.G…what's that about?"

Logan turned around and gave her a weird look. "How'd you-"

"Bobby sent me a message, telling me not to wait up and then he put 'RG'. It had confused me, but now I know that it was a ploy of some sort."

Logan smiled as he calmly told her, "They're initials. Stands for Roger Gray."

"Who's-"

"A guy who'd been shot and left for dead. His body had been found alongside Arthur Kill Road, about around the same spot I found Bobby." Logan took one last look at Bobby before leaving the room.

Turning back to Bobby, she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was a stark contrast to his panicked, heavy breathing when he had first woken. She wasn't familiar with that type of pain, of being shot, but she had seen many who had been. She had been witness to their anguish; how some slipped into hysterics while others were so powerful that it caused them to go unconscious, to slip into comas. The damage was always serious, sometimes deadly, and she was so glad that this time it didn't end in a life lost.

She was so relieved that nothing else seemed important. The only thing, the most important thing, was that Bobby was alive and breathing and he was going to wake back up. Their disagreements, their battling emotions and conflicting opinions, all of it seemed insignificant. Her initial anger at Bobby for keeping his plans for that night secret dissipated as the overwhelming relief of his survival took hold.

There was no reason to remain mad, seething with anger, over something that she couldn't change. Sure, she was still irritated. This was just one more thing that Bobby had kept from her, but she wasn't certain if it was all due to his stubbornness or partly her fault as well. She felt it was partly her fault regardless of his motives.

Her persistence, much like Bobby's when he tried to force his way back into her life when they had been separated, had pushed him further away. It seemed as if they were always in a constant push and pull. Their partnership and relationship, they were constantly in motion with one or both of them pressing or pushing against the other.

Her nerves were shot. Heaving out a sigh, she sunk lower in the chair and finished off the coffee while trying to relax. Logan was right, there was no more reason to worry.

What they had to do now was recover.

TBC…One more chapter to go!


	40. We're not special, we're just cop

A/N: I think I'm incapable of truly ending a story. When I first started writing this I thought that this would be the last story for this series. Then I got to the last few chapters and realized that it still wasn't complete. I can go on forever in this little universe I've created, and so I'm currently brainstorming another story idea that would pick up where this one ends but have yet to do any writing on it (I do have 'Streets of Grey' to polish up and get posted), so we'll have to wait and see what I ultimately decide.

I want to thank everyone for reading. It's nice to know that my work is appreciated even though this is just fan-fiction.

Enjoy.

* * *

_A Month Later_

A cell phone was ringing and he immediately tried to reach for it across Alex's body. She beat him to it as he heard her voice in the dark.

"Eames…" she let out a heavy sigh before saying, "All right, Captain. I'll be right there." She paused for a moment as she shifted onto her back. "Okay, I'll keep an eye on him."

His eyes took in the blurry numbers on the clock; _1:08_

Alex flipped the phone shut as she looked at him, saying, "First day back and I get a one a.m. callout."

It was a struggle to stay awake as his tired mind started to drift into the arms of sleep once again. Gathering the energy, he mumbled a soft, "Good luck," before his eyes grew too heavy to remain open.

His breathing felt tight, constricted, as he panted for air. Kicking his legs, he felt them tangle in the sheets as the whirling thoughts, voices, and screaming lifted along with the fog of sleep. Gasping for breath, he blinked up at the ceiling while his body shivered. The sweat coated his hand as he ran it over his face and through his hair.

Turning to the clock on the nightstand, he took in the time. _2:54_

Their was a tingling in his abdomen as the itching increased. A panic settled in his chest as the tingling turned to a burst of pain. His mind was slow to respond as he turned to his side and reached for the drawer in the nightstand. Finding his bottle of pain medication in the dark, he quickly tapped out two as his gut convulsed in spasms.

The cloudiness in his vision irritated him, made him want to rub at his eyes, but he knew it would be useless. He was groggy, tired, and the pain medication was going to knock him out soon enough.

Several minutes later the pain was gone and the itching was only a mild inconvenience. The numbing of his thoughts, his movements, and his emotions should've shocked him but then again, he didn't care enough to be shocked. The Percocet made him not give a damn. It made him not feel the ache in his head, the pain in his abdomen, nor the pain in his soul at feeling the emptiness from Alex's side of the bed.

He tucked his arm under his head while staring up at the ceiling that was slowly enclosing in darkness. He didn't attempt to clear his focus as the room spun, forcing him to drift back into the haze that numbed his mind.

That haze of total numbness lasted all the way until the alarm beeped at 6:00, making him groan as he turned it off. Today was the big day, and instead of feeling excited and anxious, he wasn't feeling much of anything. He actually liked it. Not being able to feel a thing actually felt pretty great. It meant he couldn't feel the worry, the fear, and the complications of walking back into that building and all those people. But the best part was that he couldn't feel the pain, and not just the physical.

He shifted in bed, rolling onto his side, and let out a deep breath as he gathered the energy to get up. The buzzing of his cell phone surprised him as he quickly grabbed for it. Flipping it open, he answered, "I'm awake."

He heard the sarcasm in her voice as she said, "And probably already showered and shaved and pacing around the floor."

Bobby sat on the edge of the bed as he thought that yes, if this had been before, then she would've been right. Usually by now he would have already been up and on his second cup of coffee, anxious to get the day started. However, he wasn't too excited about getting this day going.

His hand unconsciously rubbed along the tender flesh of his abdomen as he stood and said, "How's your first case going?"

"It's going. Nothing says welcome back like a fresh cup of coffee over a dead body."

Opening the closet door, he stopped in the middle of it as he stared at his array of suit jackets and dress shirts. "So…who're you working it with?"

"Your partner."

He stilled with his hand on the hanger as he asked, stunned, "Mike?"

"Yeah." Alex was quiet for a moment before saying, "It's his first case with Major Case and he was driving me crazy trying to prove that he was up to the challenge. I had to pull on his reins a few times."

He half-heartedly listened as he tossed the chosen jacket, dress shirt, and tie on the bed and then headed to the bathroom to shower.

"You'll be back and on a case soon enough, Bobby. Don't worry about it. Another month or so-"

"I know," he cut her off as he turned on the water for the shower. Being reminded that he had another month or more of recovery left wasn't something he wanted to think about just then. "Um, was there any other reason you called because-"

"Deakins is giving me the morning so I can be there with you."

"Yeah, okay, so uh…Then I guess I'll see you later."

Closing the phone, he leaned against the counter as he took in his appearance. He thought his recovery was taking too long but his doctor told him that two months was the norm for his type of injury. Alex had healed faster than he did; the cast for her broken arm had been removed after two weeks. Her physical therapy lasted about the same amount of time; she passed the shooting qualifications on her first attempt to no ones surprise. She was back to work, on limited-duty, after only a month. She'd be on full duty next week after her last physical therapy session.

Physically, he knew he could return to work, even if it was desk duty, but he hadn't been cleared yet. Granted, he also had to undergo a psych consult as well as physical therapy but that didn't ease his frustrations with not being able to work. He lived for his job and when he couldn't do it, it drove him crazy. The tedious day-in and day-out of doing nothing was making him more impatient than usual.

Alex had even gotten tired of his moods and had been leaving him alone for the most part. She spent more of her off time with family before coming home just to go into the bedroom, leaving him o disappear into the study. It wasn't because she didn't want to be with him, it was the fact that he had become irritable, he actually snapped at her a few times when she'd tried spending time with him.

He felt horrible for his behavior but mostly confused because he had no idea why he was taking his frustration out on her. He had apologized, but she seemed to shrug it off, which confused him even more.

She told him that she would give him his space and time because that was what he needed. It was the truth, but it wasn't lost on him that she didn't think it was all he needed. Alex believed he also needed, and maybe only needed, was her. Her love and her caring and her warmth and womanly ways was supposed to be all he needed to make him heal, recover, and ultimately happy.

Yeah, that stuff was good; it helped to keep him going, but those ideas were irrational to his recovery and overall sense of purpose. Love wasn't going to make the pain go away or make him okay with not being able to do his job. Neither was his stubborn will, even though he wished that it was all it took because he hated taking pills to get better.

The pain medication wasn't too bad and the only thing he experienced as a side effect was cotton mouth and dulled emotions. He remembered his doctors explanation for that particular effect a month ago.

"_It's normal after having surgery to experience intense pain, especially after a traumatic event."_

"_Like being shot?" he asked because he thought he had to further convince Alex that the stronger medication was necessary. The pain he felt once the medication wore thin was just as bad as when he'd been in that car. It was paralyzing. _

"_Exactly," the doctor confirmed. "Just remember that this drug doesn't deaden or get rid of the pain. What it does is distant you from it; it raises your pain threshold. So even though you're not feeling the pain right now, it's still there and that's why as soon as the drug wears off, the pain is too strong to manage without help."_

_He gave a nod as he slipped his long-sleeved flannel over his bare shoulders. Mike had arrived late last night to give Alex a ride home to get cleaned up and change clothes, and to get him a pair of fresh clothes to wear home. The clothes he'd been wearing were now evidence and ruined by his blood. _

_Alex had been mindful of his restricted maneuverability and gotten him just the flannel to put on, no t-shirt underneath, a loose-fitting pair of jeans, and his sneakers. He was almost out of the hospital; all there was left to do was wait to sign his name on forms and be given his prescription. Normally he would refuse pain medication, especially a narcotic, but this wasn't some bruising or muscle pain. He'd been shot, then had the bullet roughly and forcibly removed from his insides because it wasn't like he had just taken it.. He had put up a fight, struggled against the three men holding him down while Brenda dug around in his muscles trying to get the bullet out._

_Then there was the blood loss, the cold snow, the struggle against the backseat of the Crown Vic…_

"_Bobby?"_

_Glancing to Alex, he refocused on the room and sighed heavily. "Can I get out of here now?"_

_The doctor gave him a look before checking with Alex on something. "Make sure he doesn't over do it. Remember to rest and give your body time to cope and readjust."_

His pain threshold had been risen, meaning he could take on a lot and not feel a thing. That also included emotional pain he shortly realized after being released from the hospital. The drug numbed him in a way that kept him functional despite what he was feeling emotionally as well as physically. It put a distance between him and the pain…Something he'd been trying to do his entire life.

Alex had been relatively quiet during that period when he was in the hospital. She never told him what she was going through or thinking, but he could guess. It hadn't been the first time she'd been through it. Sitting in a hospital while the man she loved struggled to survive. He should have talked to her about it, but he never brought it up and neither did she.

Now, thinking about it, she hadn't said much to him in the past month that went beyond the surface. They stopped getting personal. They stopped arguing, they stopped expressing any form of passion-filled emotions toward one another. Since he was still recovering, they also hadn't had sex in the past month.

They had drifted apart since returning home, since they both had to take time to recover. Staring down at his body, he trailed his fingers over the scar tissue that ran along his lower abdomen. He had been lucky. The bullet had missed the artery that would have most definitely ended his life. The same artery that had been nicked that ended Stapleton's life.

He tried not to think about that as he got under the hot spray. To his dismay, that was all he could think about as he prepared for the day.

* * *

Bobby finally stopped pacing the floor as he settled into the bench along the side of the wall they were all huddled on. He appeared okay, back to his usual self, but she noticed the dullness in his eyes and the hidden pain that caused his lip to twitch when he reached out to hand her the cup. She also knew that he kept the bottle of his pain medication tucked inside his suit jacket at all times. When he thought no one was looking, he would take one more than the two a day recommendation.

She couldn't begin to understand the amount of pain he was in but she thought that after a month he would be off the Percocet. He tried ibuprofen but that lasted less than a week before he was back on the narcotic. As she watched Logan catch Bobby up on the case they were working, she remembered the fear she had felt when Bobby had first been subscribed the medication. Her fear then had seemed illogical and maybe even overprotective, but now, seeing him still taking it, it felt like she had every right to worry.

"_Doctor, are you sure that giving him a higher dosage of a narcotic is the best thing for him?"_

_The doctor seemed neutral to her concern, and maybe it was because he'd heard all this before from other concerned girlfriends of his patients. Smiling at her, he pulled a pen from his white overcoat as he asked her, "You're concerned with him getting addicted?"_

"_No, it's not that. I'm concerned that…well…" she struggled through her response as she realized that, yes, her concern was because of that sole reason. Bobby's family history was full of addiction._

"_Tell me, does Mr. Goren have a history of addiction?"_

"_What?" she asked, startled by the doctor's question. Her immediate defense of Bobby spurred in her while she watched him hesitate the pen over Bobby's chart. "He's never had an addiction, except maybe to his work."_

"_Never abused drugs, prescription or otherwise…alcohol?"_

_She shook her head as she debated whether or not Bobby's alcohol use would be described as abusive. A while ago it had been an issue but he'd proven recently that he was the one in control of his use, not the other way around. "No."_

"_Okay," the doctor said as he finally jotted something on the chart before heading back into Bobby's hospital room. "I'll increase the dosage. It'll help him manage the pain, and then when he's ready to stop taking the Percocet, we'll gradually reduce it until it's out of his system."_

_Giving another nod, she watched as he went up to Bobby's bed and started talking to him. As the doctor talked with Bobby, his eyes never left her. They were a little glassy but he seemed coherent enough and he was no longer screaming while trying to rip his stitches out._

_Bobby finally looked away as the doctor took out his IV's. The way he seemed relieved to by the news that his dosage would be increased worried her. That wasn't like him. Bobby hated medication, hated being given pills. He barely took Tylenol. He would rather deal with the pain than to take a damn pain pill, especially a narcotic. He'd been in a bar fight nearly a week ago and he had refused medication of any kind. Instead he went home and…_

_She sighed as she remembered that the first thing he did when he got home was grab a beer. Was his use of alcohol abusive? He wasn't an alcoholic, she knew that, but was he using too much of it?_

_He was scared, she realized. That was the only explanation as to why Bobby was actually taking an interest in pain medication. Whatever physically pain he was feeling, or had felt, he didn't want to experience again._

_Later, while in the car, she watched as Bobby rested his head against the passenger window. Leaning forward, in-between the front seats, she watched as he closed his eyes and in a few short seconds appeared to be out like a light. "So," she asked Liz who had volunteered to drive them home from the hospital, "you know about prescription medication, what'd you think?"_

_Liz glanced at her in confusion as she answered, "About Bobby being on Percocet? In my opinion, it's the best thing for him besides maybe Vicodin."_

"_It's not dangerous?"_

_Liz smiled a little as she shook her head at her worry. "He'll be fine as long as you make sure he takes it as prescribed. And don't let him drink anything stronger than coffee for a while. He should only be taking it for a few weeks, and then all he'll need after that is ibuprofen."_

_At least her sister sounded confident. With Bobby, she knew she was going to need all the support she could get. "Okay, thanks," she told her sister as she sat back in the seat. Looking out the window, she watched as they crossed the bridge into Brooklyn. Soon they would be home and then she could finally get some real sleep._

"_Oh, and our parents are going to stop by later. They think now with Bobby bed-ridden and your arm broken that means you two can't fend for yourselves."_

_She tried to look annoyed but truth was she was glad her parents would be by and bringing food. It would probably be enough to last at least a week or two. "Sounds great. I'm sure Bobby would appreciate it."_

_Liz gave her a smile through the rearview mirror before refocusing on the road._

Bobby's laughter brought her back to the inside of the courthouse as she realized she missed something, a joke between him and Logan, that broke through the unemotional barrier that had surrounded him since he'd been shot. A pang of jealousy and envy sparked in her heart before she had a chance to stop it. Logan had been able to do something that she'd tried to do since he'd been released but managed to come up short. Logan got Bobby interacting, joking around, and laugh with somewhat genuine emotion.

The laughter was short lived as the doors opened and out walked ADA Ron Carver. Per special request, he had been assigned to the Grand Jury hearings. They stood as he approached. The knot in her stomach eased at seeing the slight smile on his face. Looking at Bobby, she saw the worry in his eyes as he tried for a soft smile.

Stepping over to him, she placed her hand on his back in silent support as Carver stopped in front of him.

"Indictments in every case. Congratulations, detective," Carver told Bobby as he reached out to shake his hand.

She felt the tension in his back ease considerably as he shook Carver's hand. "Thank you," Bobby spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "When, uh…when're the trials?"

"Savoie's is scheduled for sometime this summer. Travis, however, waved his right to a speedy trial. It'll be next month. As for the others, well, you know that they all plead out for deals, twenty-five to life with parole."

"What're the deals for?" she asked as Bobby only nodded. Bobby never told her about any deals given to the others.

Carver turned to her as he said, "For their testimony against Paul Savoie and Detective Travis on the murder of Greg Connelly and his wife."

"Even Jackson?" she asked incredulously. "He was the one who shot Bobby." Her angry protest was cut off as the doors opened and out walked Rivers, Travis, Brenda, and bringing up the rear, Jackson.

She watched as the former detective locked eyes with Bobby and stopped walking. Not knowing what was happening until it was too late to do much about it, Alex felt Bobby step away from her as he walked right up to Jackson.

Bracing for a confrontation, she started for them when she saw Bobby pat the man who shot him on the shoulder. She heard Jackson's voice in the quiet hall as he told Bobby 'Thank you' before he was lead away by an officer of the court and his lawyer.

When he turned around, his smile was gone but he seemed more content than before. Carver leaned into him and they quietly exchanged words; once done, he gave them both a smile before leaving them alone in the hall as he went back to work.

She didn't know what to feel after watching that exchange. It wasn't just that Bobby had apparently been the one responsible for leniency where Jackson was concerned, but that she was the last to know about it. He had once again kept her in the dark, at arms length, and she felt blindsided. She felt betrayed and un-trusted.

She wondered if Mike knew or if Bobby also kept it from him as well.

Logan, who'd been quiet for the entire time, cleared his throat to draw their attention. "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving. It's ten-thirty, lets say we grab a late breakfast. I know a great place in Hell's Kitchen that serves the best omelets."

Bobby seemed hesitant as he stared at the floor. "Uh, thanks, for the offer, but…" he looked up at Logan as he told him, "I'll rather just…go home."

Alex wanted to rush after him as he started for the elevators but she knew his mind was made up. If she pursued he would tell her to back off, to leave him alone, and she would because she respected his needs, even if it hurt.

She wondered, as she watched him turn the corner, if he thought about her needs at all. Bobby had a way to disregard, or block out, all others when he was in pain. It didn't matter where the pain came from, mental, emotional, physical, he became so focused on himself that she felt insignificant in comparison.

Taking a breath, she shook her head at the feelings of anger at him before following Mike out of the courthouse.

* * *

Alex didn't allow alcohol in the apartment anymore since she caught him combining his medication with a glass of scotch when they returned from the hospital. She refused to let him buy anything even after he promised not to take anything for at least two hours before having a drink. It was to eliminate temptation, she had told him, but all it did was make him want it more. The days were becoming too long and it was nearly impossible for him to continue any longer without having at least one drink. He did understand the risks of combining his pain medication with alcohol so, like he had tried to promise her, he didn't take any after his afternoon dose and by the evening hours he was ready for that drink.

For a Monday, the bar a few blocks from his apartment was slowly filling with customers trying to get over the Monday workday. The regulars had already been there when he showed and the bartender Jon had already started filling his glass before he sat down. His off-again, on-again regular rotation at the bar was becoming clear to him. He was once again becoming a familiar face among the patrons.

As he sat at the bar, sipping on his glass of scotch, his mind kept going back to the everything that had happened in the past month. It was out by now that he had worked undercover for IA; that had been circulating around the NYPD for weeks; since the Staten Island cops had been rung up on charges.

It had taken a month to get to the Grand Jury because Travis had taken off, skipped bail. They had tracked him down to a motel in Arlington, North Carolina. During the same time, Paul Savoie's house had been searched and evidence had been found that linked Savoie to the unsolved serial murder cases. That hadn't been a surprise to him but it stirred up turbulence all around the organized crime community. It seemed that mobsters didn't like one of their own going up for being a serial killer. They all closed off their connections to Savoie, basically hanging the mob boss out to dry.

Everything seemed to be working out fine, smoothing out and he was happy to put it all behind him. He had tried to talk to Brenda, get her reason and motivation for doing what she did, but she refused to speak to him.

Jackson would have gotten life for attempted murder of a cop, of him, but he asked for leniency and it had been granted since Jackson agreed to testify against both Savoie and Travis in open court. Bobby was actually okay with that and he didn't really know why. He should have wanted blood for what they did to him, especially Jackson since he had been the one to pull the trigger, but he wasn't. Like Logan had told him, there was too much blood already; it was best to let it go.

All in all, the operation had been a success from a professional standpoint. Personally, however, it had been anything but a success. Too many people had been hurt or killed. Too many lives ruined. Too many ramifications that he had yet to deal with but knew were coming.

There was no way a cop could work for Internal Affairs and not end up paying a price for that work. He was a rat, and even good cops hated rats. No one could trust him now; no one except Alex and Logan, Deakins…The only three people that he could ever truly trust so at least he felt in good hands.

As he watched a waiter deliver a round to a table of five business men, he realized he'd zoned out. He'd been doing that a lot lately, losing himself in his thoughts without any sense of the world around him. Usually when he drifted off he still heard what was going on, was still able to respond, but not so much lately. Sometimes it was a struggle staying engaged, staying connected, and he didn't understand why he was losing his focus so much.

Maybe because he had a lot going on inside his head, a lot to think about. One of those things that he couldn't stop thinking about, dwelling on, was going back to Major Case. His transfer back, like with Logan, was approved and once he was cleared for duty he would return to his old stomping grounds at One Police Plaza.

And, yeah, he was nervous to go back to work at Major Case. He felt like he was returning home, but to a home that no longer felt safe. He wondered if it was worth it. If he should maybe stick with homicide and try for a position at a local precinct instead. Then, as he downed the glass and gestured for another, he thought that maybe it would be best for himself and for Alex if he just quit the NYPD altogether.

A sharp pain jolted through his gut, causing him to wince. The sharpness lingered until the pain turned into a burning ache that wouldn't go away.

He stood too quickly, nearly knocking the stool to the floor, as he headed toward the restroom. Bobby didn't like taking his medication in front of anyone, especially Alex. Every time he pulled out his pill bottle she got a look on her face that told him that she disapproved. He could care less if she approved or not; she wasn't the one in pain, he was.

The post-op pain that was supposed to have gone away by now hadn't. It had stayed and turned into what his doctor told him was chronic. Chronic pain lasted and they were in the midst of trying to find out the reason why because in all actuality it shouldn't be there. His body was healing correctly, his muscles appeared to be fine, no fragments or tears, no reason at all to why it still hurt. When his doctor suggested that it was psychological, that the pain was in his head, he baulked.

Swallowing down the pill with a handful of water, he closed his eyes as the pain grew more intense. His hands gripped the edge of the counter while he fought against pain and waited for it to stop.

The pill mixed with the scotch sent his head swimming in haze as he left the restroom; returning to the bar, he picked up his new glass and took a hefty drink.

* * *

The kitchen was empty when she got home. Tossing her purse on the table, she immediately started preparing to cook dinner. As she decided on what to cook, she filled the kettle with water for tea. Spaghetti would be simple to make, and fast and quick, so she busied herself boiling water and adding the noodles. The sauce would be last to heat up. They had nothing to make meatballs with but there were Italian sausage links that she could fry in a pan and then cut up to add to the sauce.

Once everything was situated on the stove and cooking perfectly, she ventured through the living room and down the hall. Excepting to see the study door closed, she was surprised to see it open. After checking the rest of the apartment she discovered that Bobby wasn't home. Just as well, she thought as she sipped on her hot cup of tea and wishing it was wine.

She should have bought a bottle on the way home and said to hell with keeping the apartment alcohol-free. Going back into the kitchen, she strained the noodles, turned the sauce on low, and then grabbed the keys. There was a bodega on the corner that had racks of wine bottles for sale.

Valentine's day was fast approaching and everywhere she looked she saw signs posted. She thought about Bobby and what she could get for him or what they could do together to celebrate their relationship. As she thought about the possibilities, a wave of sorrow and fear gripped her as she stopped in front of the bodega. Looking at the poster of two joined hearts with two joined rings in the middle, advertising a jewelry company specializing in wedding rings, she couldn't help but feel like her relationship with Bobby was deteriorating. She feared that come Valentine's Day they would have no relationship.

She still loved the man, but she knew that love wasn't everything. Love didn't conquer all despite what sappy love stories liked to make society believe. If she was in a coma, a kiss wasn't going to bring her back to life. And Prince Charming didn't exist either; he was just a man who could charm his way into her heart. A man that under that outer shell of pretenses was a deeply flawed and troubled soul that couldn't share his heart if his life depended on it.

Okay, she was getting overly dramatic and maybe even exaggerating her emotions a bit, but she couldn't help it. She felt the life she was trying to create and hold-on to with Bobby slipping away.

Going into the store, she grabbed a bottle of red wine, not caring what kind or brand, and quickly paid for it so she could get back to the apartment before the food was ruined.

The moment she opened the door, she saw him standing at the stove. With a wooden spoon in hand, Bobby stirred some oregano in the sauce before taking a taste test from the spoon. Adjusting the heat, he put the spice container and spoon down before checking on the sausage links.

"Are you okay to drink some wine with dinner?"

Bobby glanced over at her; eyeing her and then the bag she sat on the table, he gave a nod. "Yeah, that's fine. I, uh…I actually already had a drink. And," he gestured to refrigerator.

Alex should have known he was at the bar when she saw he wasn't home. Opening the refrigerator, she sighed as she saw the twelve pack on the bottom shelf. There was no sense arguing about it since she did just buy a bottle of wine for them to have. She also knew that he probably also bought a bottle of scotch and it was somewhere in the cabinets.

Getting two glasses down, she rinsed them off then poured them both a glass of the red wine. Bobby accepted the glass as he went back to the stove to finish doing the cooking.

It was the first time they've cooked, or at least cooked together, in what felt like months. The scene was so domesticated that it brought her hope that maybe this was the beginning of their reconnection, of them fixing what had been missing from their relationship weeks now.

Easing up behind him, she leaned against his back. He tensed up at the contact but he didn't move away so she upped the stakes as she wrapped her left arm around his waist. She could feel the growing tension in his body; how his abdomen muscles tightened as she caressed him over his shirt. His breath caught when she eased the shirt up to feel his skin.

Her fingers guided along his right side, over his stomach, and as she got closer to his left side a tremor went through his back. The moment her fingers touched scar tissue, his right hand grabbed her. He held his fingers in his palm, keeping her from continuing touching him as he suddenly moved away.

He let her hand go without saying anything but he didn't give her a chance to speak as he left the room.

Sighing in frustration, she downed the wine and looked at the food ready to eat on the stove. Not knowing if he was coming back or not, she prepared her a plate, buttered her a couple pieces of bread, and then went out into the living room to eat because there was no point in sitting alone at the table.

* * *

He felt someone shoving him, forcing him to break free from the darkness of sleep as he became aware of the darkness in the bedroom. The fan that had been blowing earlier was now off and the air was hot and thick. He decided at that moment to get a humidifier for the bedroom.

"Bobby, wake up, we've got to talk."

Sighing, he glanced at the clock and saw that it was 1:52 in the morning. He couldn't get a good nights sleep for anything. "This had better be good," he grumbled into the pillow before rolling onto his back. Reaching his arm up to rub at his eyes, he knocked it accidentally into her ribs. "Sorry," he said before it clicked in his head that she was sitting up in bed.

Alex was scooted back against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest and the blanket was pooled around her waist. Despite the darkness in the room, he knew that something was bothering her.

He heard her sharp and deep intake of breath as his breath caught in his chest. Then, he heard her voice, the heaviness in her words, as she said, "We're drifting too far apart, Bobby, like we did when we were separated. I've been thinking and...if we don't talk soon, we're going to end up breaking up again. We're going to keep hurting each other and resent each other if we keep going like we are."

It took a moment for her words to register, and once they did, he didn't feel shocked or confused. He knew they were having problems. They had been sex-less for a month, they hadn't really talked since he'd been released from the hospital, and his lack of effort at connecting emotionally lately was taking its toll on the both of them. But he didn't want to feel anything because he felt like he couldn't deal with it all right now.

It was too much. For fuck's sake, he was thinking about quitting his job and now this. Alex was fearing a breakup and so she wanted to have it out with him? At two in the morning? Well, too fucking bad.

Taking a sharp deep breath of his own, he calmly told her, "You know what, Alex, you may be right. It may be that we've made a huge fucking mistake and that our life together is over and that really, _really_ sucks. But right now, I'm not going to talk about it. I'm not going to talk about something this monumental and important in the middle of the night. If you want to have a talk about it, you're going to have to wait to do it in the morning."

Alex was so stunned she couldn't say anything as he rolled over in bed and went back to sleep.

When he woke again it was to the sound of the alarm beeping in his ear. Turning it off, he reached for his bottle of Percocet only to find it empty. "Son-of-a-" he cut himself off as he tossed the bottle across the room.

The empty bottle meant it was time to schedule another doctors' appointment to assess his injury and his pain. Forcing himself out of bed, he slowly made his way to the bathroom and then the kitchen.

Alex was already in there, having gotten up earlier, calmly sipping on a cup of coffee and dressed for the work day. She gave him a once over then told him matter-of-factly, "There's a bottle of ibuprofen on the counter."

He wondered how she knew he was out of his medication as he pulled down a cup.

"You look pissed off and ready to collapse."

Rubbing at his head and the back of his neck while filling the cup full of coffee, he told her, "Ibuprofen doesn't work."

"The last time you tried it was a week after you got released from the hospital. It's been a month. Your pain has to be less severe by now."

She was reasoning with him and it was working. Plus, the pain wasn't going to go away. Grabbing the bottle, he took two with his coffee. "I'm going to try and get an appointment scheduled for this week."

Alex closed her eyes and shook her head. "You don't need the Percocet, Bobby. After a week of ibuprofen, you'll realize that."

Not wanting to argue with her about it, about how much pain he was in, Bobby let it go as he rummaged through the refrigerator. Pulling out the plastic container with the left over spaghetti in it from last night, he tossed it into the microwave to heat up.

"Stop being stubborn," she suddenly told him.

Turning to her, he shook his head in deflection as he asked, "You think I've got a problem."

Alex hesitated as she shifted on the counter she'd been leaning against. "I think you think you need it when you don't. I think it's the fear of the pain you're trying to kill with those pills and not the actual pain your feeling."

Bobby eyed her for a long moment as his jaw worked to control the outburst he felt pulsing through him. She sounded like his doctor. The pain wasn't in his head; it was real, it was physical, and it fucking hurt. "How'd you know what I'm feeling? Don't tell me what I'm feeling or how what I think."

He saw her reserve break as she sat the cup down and glared at him. Her voice was steady and calm, like a decision had been made, when she told him, "Bobby, I feel that right now it'll be for the best if I left."

"You're not leaving," he stubbornly said, sounding just as confident as she did. Staring into her eyes, he saw the pain in them and that was when his own resolve broke. When he felt the pain that had been burning and twisting in his gut flare throughout his entire chest. The microwave started beeping, indicating that the food was done heating up. He took a plate out of the strainer and the food out of the microwave. "I did so much," he said while preparing his plate. "I risked my life to get back to Major Case and to you and I'll be damned if you leave just because we're going through a tough time." Tossing the plate on the table, he turned to her, saying, "It happens, and this isn't going to be the last time we're faced with these difficulties. We've worked it out before, we can work it out again."

"Don't you think that that's what I've been trying to do for the past month only for you to hide away from me."

"I need time to get better," he angrily explained before catching himself. Taking a breath, he calmed his breathing as his thoughts raced to figure out what to say to her. What could he say to miraculously fix what he had damaged? "I couldn't deal with the pain and everything else. Now, Christ, Alex, now I'm finally able to actually take my life back on again and you're bailing on me," he accused. "It's bad enough that we can't be partners…Or is that what you want? You want us to breakup because you still think we can work together?"

Alex crossed her arms as she stared hard at him. "This isn't about the job, Bobby. I know that that'll never happen because the NYPD doesn't revolve around us. We're not special, we're just cops. And if we did breakup, the last thing I would want to do is work with you."

Bobby stared over at Alex as he listened to her words. He hated that she was right. They weren't special. The rules were the rules, and they were put in place for a reason. He understood those reasons, and once upon a time he even held true to them with a passion. As his buddies had said in the Army: "don't get your honey where you get your money". That had been a motto they had all stood by while in the military, and grateful that they had because they had seen the consequences of going against that rule.

It caused too many problems; it raised questions of objectiveness and favoritism. However, those weren't the worst things that had happened. Other ethical decisions had come into question, rumors were spread, and ultimately respect was lost and in its place was bitter resentment.

Who he felt the most sorry for in that dynamic was the woman. A relationship was hard enough, but the added criticism of being the woman having sex with a superior or someone under her command had been brutal. He never wanted something like that to happen to Alex. He didn't want other detectives or the brass to criticize her, or judge her, or worse, fire her because she fell in love with him and they decided to act on that.

He didn't think that it would happen with the NYPD, but then that had been before the Major Case detectives refused to work with Alex. Before they jumped him in a bar. Before rumors spread that the only reason Alex had been his partner, had stayed his partner, was because they were in a relationship. It wasn't because they worked great together, that they had an amazing working partnership, or that they respected one another. All that was forgotten in the wake of their exposed relationship and the reason why became because they were sleeping with each other.

It was belittling and humiliating.

Now within the department, within the squad, their reputations were tainted in a way that would never recover. Alex could forget about ever making captain. He could forget about ever getting anything higher than detective. No brass in their right mind would make him a supervisor. He could take the test all he wanted, if he wanted, but they would pass him up always in favor of someone more diplomatic and sane.

They had caused this for themselves, he knew, but it didn't make him any less infuriated with those in the department. It didn't ease his troubled thoughts; the ones that made him think that maybe it would be best if he just quit.

Then again, that wasn't productive thinking. That was him running away from the situation. That was him being a coward.

Breaking himself from his thoughts, he moved in front of Alex, limiting her personal space as he placed his hands on either side of her on the counter. Alex stared up at him with that stubborn look in her eyes that always made him hot with desire but now it made him realize that this was it; this was his wakeup call.

It was either save this relationship or let it go. Now would be the time to do it and make it work. She could move out and even though they were working in the same squad, they were no longer partners so it wouldn't interfere with their work.

Coming to a decision, he sternly told her once again, "We're not going to breakup. I let you walk out on me once and…I'm the first to admit that I acted like a stubborn child, but…I-I, uh…I think we, uh…We do need to have a serious talk, but it'll have to wait until later. Tonight, okay?"

He moved his hands from the counter to her back. Rubbing along the rigid muscles, he felt how tense she was. It hurt him to feel her tension especially since it was his fault that she was so stressed. Bringing his hands around to her front, Bobby gripped her hands in his as he waited patiently for her response.

Alex's stern eyes softened as she returned the grip, squeezing his hands in hers. Giving him a nod, she said, "Okay."

Smiling slightly, he ventured a bold move as he tilted his head down, giving her a kiss on her cheek. She sighed as she turned into him, bringing her lips to his. Within that kiss he felt that they were going to be okay. It was the first time, since before he'd been shot, that he felt almost safe. That he believed that he could get better, and do it without having to numb everything to get over the pain.

He still feared her rejection, as he always would, but he right then he thought that he had put it off for a little longer.

Ending the kiss, Alex rubbed her hands up his bare chest to wrap around his neck as she leaned into him. The hug felt so familiar and comforting that he didn't want to break away from it.

"We'll work this out, Bobby. I overreacted. I still love you and I don't-"

"I never thought differently."

"I'm just scared, and I've been feeling so alone lately."

That admission broke his heart. He had no idea she had been feeling that way. He hadn't wanted to know that she had been feeling that way. Bobby could've kicked him for being so self-centered and indulgent, for ignoring her and her needs. That had to be something that they talked about.

Pulling away, he kissed her again before letting go as he went over to the table and sat down. He had only taken a few bites when her cell phone started ringing.

Groaning, Alex picked up the phone as he looked at the clock. It wasn't even seven yet and Alex didn't have to be at work until eight. The commute from Greenpoint to One Police Plaza was only thirty minutes on a bad day.

"Eames…" Alex paused as she listened to whatever was being said on the other line. "Okay, Captain. Yeah, I'll let him know. Thanks." Hanging up, she rubbed at her forehead as she told him, "You're not going to believe who turned up in a fisherman's net off Montauk."

Bobby finished off his cup of coffee as he answered, "A suspect?"

Alex shook her head as she got up from the table. "My only suspect. Now he's victim number two. I gotta call Logan and get out there. Oh," she paused as she pulled down her thermos to fill with coffee to take with her. "Deakins won his battle with the Chief of D's to get you on limited desk duty. He wants you digging into the files as soon as you get in. He's expecting some kind-of profile by the end of the day." Smiling over at him, she said, "Welcome back."

He sat stunned, not sure if he heard her right. Then the spark of anticipation and excitement at getting to help her out on a case got him moving. He was back on the job and he couldn't be happier. For now, he put the thoughts of quitting at bay as he pushed the plate away in favor of getting ready for work.

Alex stopped him in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. Worried eyes looked up at him as she asked, "You're not going to forget about this morning are you?"

Shaking his head, he gripped her on the shoulders as he reassured her, saying, "We're going to talk about this. No more avoidance, okay. I don't…I mean, I never want you to have to wake me up at two in the morning again because of something like this."

Alex relaxed as she smiled up at him. "I'm glad to hear that. Tonight?"

Nodding, he told her, "Tonight we'll have dinner together, drink some wine," he murmured in her ear before giving it a kiss. "Talk about all the things we should've talked about before, and then…" Bobby pulled her close as he moved his hand down from her waist to her thigh. "We'll do some things we haven't done for far too long of a time."

"What like watch TV?" she said dryly, causing him to smile.

"We can have the TV on; it'll challenge me to see if I can get you to be louder."

Chuckling, she said, "I knew there was a good reason why I wanted one in the bedroom."

"Who said anything about the bedroom?" he innocently asked.

Alex raised her brows and pushed him gently away. "Go shower. I've got a case to solve."

"_We've_ got a case to solve," he corrected as he moved into the bathroom.

As he lathered on the shaving cream, he thought about why he had wanted to not work for the Major Case anymore. As he contemplated his reasons for not wanting to be at the department, he realized that he it was because he hadn't wanted to deal with his life. He wanted to disconnect from it for a while and not have to worry or fear the consequences of his actions over the past two months.

However, now thought he was ready for it. He was ready to engage, to deal with whatever it was that life threw his way. Picking up his razor, he smiled slightly as he thought that he was right. He had been succumbing to the fear instead of overcoming it. That had been his reason for continuing taking the pain medication, and for his drinking, but those indulgences were never in control of him.

Alex didn't understand that he was in control of it, not the other way around. He lost his grip on the razor, cutting him on the jaw as he doubled over as a sharp pain took hold and spread. The pain nearly sent him to the floor as he gripped the counter to keep from falling. Blood seamed out of the cut on his jaw and trickled down his neck as his jaw clenched tight to keep from screaming.

Making his way out of the bathroom, he stumbled down the hall and using it for support as he got into the living room. The increasing pain gnawed relentlessly at his gut as he headed for the kitchen. Grabbing the ibuprofen off the counter, he tapped out too more and quickly downed them with milk he chugged out of the carton.

He loved Alex, but like he told her, she didn't know what he was feeling. She didn't know the kind of pain he was in. Picking up the phone, he made a call to his doctor's office and after much protest with the receptionist, got an appointment made for that week.

Once back in the bathroom, he shut the door, washed his face, and then tugged off his shorts. Getting under the hot spray, he closed his eyes and relaxed as the pain eased and then completely disappeared.

The End…

…maybe.

PS: As you all know by now, I don't do typical. I don't do happy ever after because I don't see these characters lives that way. I don't mind reading other people's stories that end that way, but with mine I can't get myself to write it that way. Life's complicated, and so are these two characters. Plus, even though I went way AU, I like to keep this as canon as possible.

Also, I couldn't adequetly answer all the remaining questions in one chapter. I tried but it seemed forced, rushed, and unnatural. That's why I said this may not be done yet. I'll continue to write in this universe and if I get something going that I like, I will post.


End file.
